


Flag Flying High

by Araceil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Ableism, Action, Angst, As it should be, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Lan Si-Zhui, Baby Lans, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Carving canon up for juicy bits, Drama, Drama Queen Wei Ying, Filial Harry Potter, Good Egg Si-Zhui, Harry is the oldest of the Juniors and tired of their shit, Head Empty - Only Wei Ying Lan Zhan, Holder of the Single Braincell Si-Zhui, M/M, MY BOY MO XUAN-YU GETTING THE LOVE HE DESERVES, Mental Health Issues, OC Juniors, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Protective Harry Potter, Romance, Stalking, The Juniors being precious beans, Touch Aversion, Xianxia concepts played with, because Meng Yao is a lying ass hoe, good dad lan zhan, in this house we want to know the truth about him, such good boys, the children have more common sense than their elders, touch starvation, what's to say he didn't lie about that either?, while he's alive, world building, yes this means Si-Zhui and Harry get their shit together months ahead of WWX and LWJ
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 85,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araceil/pseuds/Araceil
Summary: The final lines were.... the only clear instructions given to him.It seemed as though Mo Xuan-Yu was seized with sudden ferocious clarity and drive – a single demand for the Yiling Patriarch: Whatever he was to do in revenge to the Mo Clan, he was to protect Hari above all. The child was not to be harmed.When his life was not enough to trade for the protection of his friends in the Final Battle, Harry gave up his magic and found himself cursed. Travelling to the Cultivation World was his only chance to survive, to break this curse that drew the resentful dead into his orbit. While there though, he finds himself caught up in the life of the tormented Mo Xuan-Yu and unable to ignore the echoes of himself in the man's pitiful circumstances. But when Harry's curse draws the dead to Mo Village, the Junior cultivators of the Gusu Lan Sect are close behind, and his life takes a dramatic swing in a different direction, towed along in the wake of Mo Xuan-Yu now that he has been freed of his oppressive family, Harry finds himself in the Cloud Recesses, and involved in a whole new mystery that the 'adults' are determined to keep him away from.
Relationships: Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui/Harry Potter, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Mo Xuanyu & Harry Potter, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Harry Potter
Comments: 790
Kudos: 1521
Collections: HP Crossovers Fanfics - WIP





	1. Chapter 1

Wei Ying woke to a kick hard enough to force the air from his lungs, the smell of blood and mouldering straw, the sound of breaking boxes, and a young nasally gasping voice shouting at him.

His head spun painfully.

It was the first time he'd heard a human voice in quite a few years, and of course it had to be at such a piercing pitch and volume as to be torture on his ears. “Stop playing dead! Whose land do you think you're living on?! Whose rice are you eating? Whose money are you spending?” the voice brayed furiously, tone still stuffy as though his throat were constricted. Petulance thick and self-important. Must have been some Young Master, one with an awful lot of courage to kick him, the dreaded Yiling Patriarch. If he didn't feel quite so terrible, Wei Ying might have been willing to bow to the Young Master simply for having a face thick enough to speak so disrespectfully to a Senior in such a manner.

“What's wrong with taking a few of your belongings? Everything you own is mine anyways! How dare you tell Father and Mother? Did you really think that anybody in this house is going to listen to you except that _boy_ chasing your heels?!”

His blurry vision cleared enough to see the dingy underside of a shack roof, the kind that would be kept on the very fringes of a property for livestock, and the one screaming at him – a large Young Master in unfamiliar clothing and colours, no family he recognised, bearing slant-brows and a sickly hue to his skin. This Young Master was – well tended was perhaps the politer way to put it as he wobbled and bellowed, wheezing as he ranted about destroying everything and how he had been ' _kicked back home like a stray dog_ '. Dog whom? Just who was this spoilt Young Master and where were they?

Had – when had _he_ done something as immoral as stealing another's body? He would never!

The Young Master left, barking something at his attendants about not letting him out for a month or letting the boy in either – if the Outsider was only going to make things worse then he should be driven off before 'Mo Xuan-Yu' made more of a disgrace of himself. Silence fell. And Wei Ying found himself in the unenviable position of being unable to even push himself upright, and so flopped on his side to stare dizzily at the mess around him.

It was definitely a livestock shack. But someone had thought to turn it into either a prison or a bedroom. A poor one at that. Poor even more now that everything inside was broken, including the bed. But some things were harder to break than a wooden bed, and he spied a bronze mirror that had been thrown down and dented on one side. He dragged it over with a too thin, too soft hand, the veins and knuckles standing out from peachy white flesh in unfamiliar blue-lace.

The face he saw in the mirror was equally unfamiliar _and far more alarming_. Ghastly white with two asymmetrical red smears across his cheeks – add in a blood red tongue and he would look like a hanged ghost!

He threw the mirror away and rubbed at his face, feeling powder beneath his fingertips. It was just make-up thankfully. Terribly applied make up, on a man at that. Disgust gave him the strength to push himself upright in search of something to wash his face with – and brought his attention to the bloodied array written beneath him.

His blood ran cold with confusion and alarm.

It was crooked and deformed in places, appearing to be drawn by hand using blood. It was sticky and still wet in places where it was thickly applied, and smelled powerfully. He knew this array. It – was a very old, forbidden technique. More of a _curse_ than anything else. The caster had to injure themselves by making incisions on their body in order to draw the array and incantations in their own blood, one had to then sit in the centre and summon an extremely villainous ghoul and ask for it to complete their wish. The price of such being to offer their own body to the evil spirit – with their soul returning to the Earth.

It was the opposite to stealing a body and possessing it – Wei Ying had been _given_ this body.

And likely for no good purpose. Because of the grave sacrifice, very few were brave enough to put it into effect. Over thousands of years, only three or four examples were proven to be true and recorded by history, all of them having the same wish – to take revenge.

Wei Ying scoffed, stung and offended.

Why would _he_ be put into the category of 'extremely villainous ghoul'?

His death was truly horrific and his reputation and actions in life were horrifying, but he neither haunted the living nor sought vengeance after the fact. There was not a single wandering ghost as harmless as he! And he would have put money on it – if he had any.

Which was going to make what followed both unpleasant and difficult, he concluded as he pushed his sleeves back to eye the slashes and gouges in his unfamiliar flesh. When he checked, both his chest and stomach were in much the same state. The bleeding had stopped, but they weren't ordinary wounds, they were proof of the vow and a threat of what would come if the caster's will was not carried out. They would worsen as time went on, and if the time-limit passed, both his soul and the body itself would be ripped apart together.

Where on earth did this 'Mo Xuan-Yu' learn such a thing?

Wei Ying looked around, half expecting to find his own notebooks hiding somewhere, but ah, if this person had it then the Young Master from before would have surely stolen it like he had everything else. But he did spy an upended bamboo basket with scraps and crumpled papers scattered around it – he occupied the body of a learned man, that at least was a relief.

The words on the paper were incoherent and disordered as he read them, grimacing at the tiny characters. But – but the more papers that Wei Ying went through, the better the picture he had of the situation.

This body belonged to Mo Xuan-Yu, and he lived in Mo Village. His mother was the younger daughter of a rich man, born of a servant in the household, when she was sixteen she caught the eye of the Sect-leader of a well-known cultivation family as they passed through the area. Apparently it was love at first sight and eventually Mo Xuan-Yu was born of the union, despite the lack of marriage. And, as Wei Ying could have predicted, having heard this tale a hundred times though usually with the name 'Jin Guang-Shan' attached to it, the man grew tired of his woman and left, never to return. The opinions of Mo Village soured and they regarded the used woman with disdainful pity for ten years until Mo Xuan-Yu was sent to his father's Sect to learn cultivation. Apparently his mother was quite arrogant about it, which made his return all the more shameful.

Mo Xuan-Yu was homosexual and had the nerve to harass the other disciples. The scandal was revealed to the public and since he was nothing special in terms of cultivation, with very few achievements to his name, there was no reason to keep him in the clan. Apparently he broke that day. Something in his mind.

It – explained why there was enough rouge and powder on his face to make him looked like a hanged ghost, and why no one so much as blinked at all the blood on the ground. Even if Mo Xuan-Yu painted the whole room from the files to the ceiling beams, no one would be overly surprised. He was, after all, quite mad.

His shame was enough that his mother died, choking to death from the trauma. Even worse still for the disgraced Mo Xuanyu, his grandfather had just passed away and his legitimate child, the Lady-First of Mo was in charge of the family. And she _hated_ her younger sister for catching the eye of the cultivator, for her son receiving the opportunities that hers was denied, and pissing it all away. It was this jealousy that fuelled her treatment of Mo Xuan-Yu, practically torturing him in a thousand tiny painful ways that wore him away like the tides did the stones. Every few days her son, the Young Master Mo Ziyuan, would steal from him, curse him, beat him. And though Mo Xuanyu was a lunatic, he did understand that he was being degraded by his cousin, his aunt, uncle, and all of their servants. He tolerated it, wanting only to please the only family he had left, unable to control himself in those moments where his mind slipped.

And then – Wei Ying frowned at the pages, the name was difficult as the characters had no meaning save the sounds they made – _'Hari_ ' came. A young man travelling alone, he was seeking aid from a cultivator but ended up running into Mo Xuan-Yu and shared food with him on a particularly bad day while he wept in the forest. It was... both tragic and sweet the way the characters bled with such relief and happiness whenever this person's name was mentioned. Several pages were just bursting with happiness, nothing spoken of his family or anxieties, only how his friend showed him how to find things to eat in the woods, and how to wrap bandages properly, his stories of far away lands, how he had the face of a foreigner with eyes the colour of finest jade, and complained endlessly of cold, huddling and laughing into his strange thick clothing of blacks, reds, and golds. Wei Ying was convinced that he himself was half in love with this person by the time he reached the last few sheets of Mo Xuan-Yu's last words.

The last pages were tragic. Mo Xuan-Yu had confessed his love to his only friend in the world, the young man who had taken such tender care of him for the last four months. And though this Hari was gentle and kind, he had still been rejected and Mo Xuan-Yu thought himself a monster for it – Hari was ten years his Junior. Not yet even old enough to have a Courtesy Name. And Mo Xuan-Yu's final papers were full of self-flagellation for his unknowing perversion towards a child, and anger and stress over Mo Zi-Yuan stealing from not only him, but also from Hari, whose only possessions were now missing. Including the only pictures he had of his beloved parents and the potions and elixers he used to protect himself from the dead. Mo Xuan-Yu went to the Lady-First Mo and her husband to request them back, not for himself, but for Hari who was in the village proper, working at one of the bars, unaware of his plans for he had often warned Mo Xuan-Yu away from speaking to his family. This complaint was likely the cause of the commotion that morning.

The final lines were.... the only clear instructions given to him.

It seemed as though Mo Xuan-Yu was seized with sudden ferocious clarity and drive – a single demand for the Yiling Patriarch: Whatever he was to do in revenge to the Mo Clan, he was to protect Hari above all. The child was not to be harmed.

“Well now,” Wei Ying concluded, sitting back as he examined the final pages of the most sad and unfortunate life of his body. Revenge he could get behind, though he knew his own prior forays with such were...... excessive, but he was famous for his wroth never touching upon those who were undeserving of it. No Wen child or woman had been harmed at the hands of Wei Wu-Xian during the SunShot campaign, not unless they took up arms first. But to be given such a clear and easy out, to protect the kind child who took care of the caster over spilling the blood of his tormentors. That was a little more to Wei Ying's taste.

Had it purely been for revenge, then... he would have had to say that Mo Xuan-Yu had got the wrong person.

He looked up from the pages as voices raised outside.

“ – not an animal to be locked up!!” a young man's voice snarled.

“Maybe when he stops behaving like one we'll treat him better!” the servant that Wei Ying vaguely recalled reporting to Young Master Zi-Yuan crowed mockingly. “Or maybe you think mothering him is going to fix him up good as new? Gunna let him suckle at your breast, cutsleeve?”

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a cry of pain, but it wasn't a young voice.

“You little – ” the servant growled.

“You reap what you sow, you illiterate son of a pig!” the young voice snapped back, making Wei Ying grin wildly. “Of course he will only get worse if you treat him badly and one day you'll pay for it!”

“Get back here!” the servant yelled, the earth crunching under his feet as he took off running.

Wei Ying laughed in his shed. That must have been the ever devoted Hari and his blade sharp tongue coming once again to Mo Xuan-Yu's defence.

A moment later the latch to the door was being lifted with a soft curse and the door pulled open.

“Xua- ” the young man froze in the doorway, his expression of triumph melting into one of horror at the sight of the interior. Yes, that was an appropriate reaction to finding someone looking like him, surrounded by his own spilt blood.

He beamed at the child whose expression crumpled – a split second before the servant from before punched him in the side of the face, throwing him to the ground with a cry of pain. “Stupid dogshit KID!” the servant snarled, grabbing the door and slamming it shut again as Wei Ying scrambled to his feet, weak limbs betraying him even as fury propelled him forward.

There was another cry of pain outside, flesh hitting flesh, the servant cursing the child out as he beat him.

Wei Ying kicked the door down and lunged for the servant with a fury befitting his prior identity, the child was curled up on the floor, trying to protect his head and neck while the servant crouched over him, one hand knotted in the child's short hair slamming his skull down onto the ground with one hand while the other hit him everywhere that could be reached.

He grabbed the servant by his hair, fingers hooking cruelly in his bun as he wrenched the man's head back so he could see exactly the expression of anger on his face as Wei Ying grabbed his jaw.

“Pay day!” he declared with vicious glee, waiting for the realisation to light those eyes, and then snapping his neck.

He dropped the corpse without a backwards glance as he went for the child who had not move from where he lay on the grass.

“A-Hari?” he ventured worriedly, kneeling down to check him over. He was _breathing_ but his eyes were shut and he wasn't moving. The servant had struck him viciously about the head and – Wei Ying hissed in sympathetic pain as he lifted the child and found bloodied rocks beneath him. He was unconscious and his face was bleeding sluggishly, already beginning to blacken with proof of how viciously he had been attacked. He gathered the child up, thinking first to put him to bed in the shed only to pause when he recalled its state and the fact that said bed was broken.

With no where to put him, Wei Ying sat and cradled him instead, taking a moment to study the child.

He was young, perhaps fifteen? Maybe younger still. Certainly no young man but a boy. Certainly not a cultivator though he was brave enough that Wei Ying thought he would have done well. He was small and delicate with limbs thin enough to be mistaken for young bamboo, and covered with bruises both fresh and old. Wei Ying wondered if this was just yet another beating the child had taken in defence of Mo Xuan-Yu that his former body's owner had been too far gone in his lunacy to notice. His face was built very strangely, much more angular than theirs, the bridge of his nose was much higher and his skin appeared rougher also, the shape of his eyes was much rounder as well though the lashes were long and lovely.

Gently he brushed a fingertip across them, wondering if there were a different texture to them as there was to his skin. There wasn't, but his hair was nice, fluffy and soft, almost like rabbit fur, with with its short length it was easy to dig his fingers in and get at the cuts that beast of a servant had caused while bouncing his face off those rocks.

Carefully he picked out the dirt and little flecks of stone that he could find, but the bleeding didn't stop and he worried. They needed cleaning properly before they festered.

“Ah – ” a girl's voice choked quietly not too far away, causing Wei Ying to look up and spot a maiden in a servant's dress of matching colour to the dogshit man on the floor not too far away. Her pretty dark eyes flicking between him, his face, the dead man, and the bruises darkening young Hari's face.

He beamed at her, “Spare some water, pretty maiden? My friend is hurt!” he told her earnestly.

She slowly crept closer, morbid curiosity driving her near, she had a bamboo tube of water that she slowly swung off, “What.... happened, Mo Xuan-Yu?” she asked timidly, trying for polite but coming across anxious as her eyes flickered to the very _obviously_ dead man, the bleeding child, and the madman who began to wash the child's face with infinite care.

“He was being mean and hurting my friend, so I pulled him off and he took a nap, but Hari is bleeding because he was hitting his head on the rocks,” Wei Ying explained, purposefully playing up to the lunatic's reputation, making himself come across simplistic and innocent. He had seen such people before, men who didn't realise they weren't actually small children who accidentally harmed their mothers or sisters without realising how much greater their strength was compared to the women in their lives. He hummed absently a song he recalled from childhood as he gently washed open the wounds on Hari's face.

“T-taking a nap, is he?” the maiden echoed shakily, eyes lingering on the very obvious _unnaturalness_ of the other servant's neck. “How shameless. I will have to – tell the madam so he can be punished,” she said, her voice stressed and warbling with fear.

Wei Ying nodded rapidly, using the edge of his inner sleeve to dab away the blood on Hari's head. “Yes, yes! And tell her he stole my things too! He took Hari's too, all of them, even the pictures of his mother and father! Aiyah, to steal such keepsakes and then hit a child so! He should have his hands removed!” They really should. Alas, he had been too angry at the time to think about things like torture and torment, only about getting him out of the way as quickly as possible.

He would have thought it strange how quickly he got attached to the child but it was hard not to feel affection for him after reading of him from Mo Xuan-Yu's own perspective.

Speaking of, had he not mentioned that Hari had plenty of potions and elixers with him? Many of which were used to protect himself from the dead, apparently of which there were a number in Mo Village, but also to clean up injuries and cuts. Mo Xuan-Yu had written fawningly of how the child tended to his injuries and taught him how to bandage them. His missing bag would have medicinal potions inside for these cuts.

Wei Ying nodded to himself and gently scooted himself free of the child's body, stripping himself free of his over-robe which he folded and laid beneath the child's bruised head. Time to fetch Hari's belongings back.

And cause some mischief in the process.

Hadn't the Young Master said they had important guests today?

* * *

Lan Yuan was.... having a very difficult time maintaining his composure.

What situation was this?

A lunatic in face powder and rouge, wearing only his under-robes, bursting into the main courtyard to demand his possessions, accusing the Young Master Mo of theft and creating such a scene, both Lady First Mo and Young Master Mo attempting to harm the obviously disturbed young man physically. Actually _doing so_ , the madman's clothing falling open to reveal hundreds of cruel gouges in his flesh, bruises and dried encrusted blood on the inside of his filthy robe fabric. It was shameful and cruel behaviour. He honestly found it distressing that anyone would treat a human being so poorly, _especially_ when that someone did not have the mental capacity to understand the wrong doing of their actions. It was like getting angry at a rabbit for eating clover leaves instead of grass when the only difference the rabbit knew was that one green thing tasted better than the other.

And then a foreigner rushed in, sweeping an ashy coloured over-robe around the lunatic, exclaiming that it was fine and he shouldn't have come it _didn't matter, please, you're going to get hurt_ – as if he himself were not already harmed. The bruising on his face was livid, recent, and painful looking. The crisp white bandages around his head spotted pink with blood.

“It does matter! It does! They are your parents! They are all you have of your parents! It matters!! He stole them from you!!” the lunatic man proclaimed ferociously, pointing at Young Master Mo.

“If he wants to play around with my potions and take his own hands off then it'll be his own fault! A-Yu, please!” the boy begged, trying to guide him out of the room, eyes the colour of fine jade flicking from the Madam to them with painful stark acknowledgement that this was a terrible situation.

“This is all your fault, High Nose!” the Young Master declared angrily pointing at the jade-eyed boy, “Before you came along we could do whatever we wanted to the Lunatic and he would take it! You've been filling his head with all sorts of useless things!!”

“What, that he has value as a human being?!” the boy snarled with sudden anger, none of the gentle soothing tones he used with the lunatic present.

And then the Young Master reared back to hit him – Jing-Yi jumping to his feet in shock, the boy was barely their age and perhaps half of their weight, a hit such as that when he was _already_ injured -! Lan Yuan felt his breath catch in horror – and then the lunatic twisted like a serpent kicking up even as he whipped the boy around by the waist to hide him behind him making Young Master Mo fall back with a shriek.

“Lay a finger on my son! Do it! I will rip your arm off from the neck down!!” the lunatic shrieked, held back only by the boy who tried to push him from the room, whispering rapid and urgent reassurances and begging him to calm down, please calm down.

Madam Mo started shouting for servants to get rid of them, promising the lunatic the punishment of a lifetime and swearing that she would have the foreigner driven out of the village or drowned in the river!

It was an experience, one that Hanguang-Jun told him to go out and seek to better his studies, to understand the lives of the people they served and experience both the cruelties and kindness of life outside the Gusu-Lan Sect. Afterall, how were they to understand what drove the anger or desires of the dead if they themselves didn't understand how these people lived.... but.... this was one that Lan Yuan could have dearly done without, he concluded miserably as he watched the pitiful duo leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got nothing. Well I got another thirteen chapters sat on my harddrive with exactly zero clue of what I'm doing lmao so far this seems to be unrolling as a "Harry's along for the ride" kind of fic, but we all know how Potters derail things. So.... I dunno, enjoy the fic? I'm having fun playing with the world building and giving unnamed characters names and personalities and playing with the baby Lans who have collectively decided that Harry is theirs now and they're going to follow him like the adorable sticky ducklings they are.


	2. Chapter 2

Lan Yuan had to admit, he was surprised the pair had not fled yet.

Madam Mo was still in a towering temper, yet her lunatic nephew and his caretaker remained on the estate, hiding in the gardens. The only reason he had seen them was purely because of his position on the roof above where he could see the younger of the pair busily tending to his Senior.

“ – sleep in this, it's bad for your skin,” the boy scolded gently as he used a cloth and some water to wash away the powder on Second Master Mo's face, the elder of the two smiling adoringly at the younger, making no move to stop him as his chin was caught in one hand and his face washed clean. “Close your eyes please,” the younger requested as he began to tackle the red. “You used the cheap powders again as well. If you want make-up so much I'll make it for you but the stuff they sell in the streets has bad ingredients, you'll end up with rashes and sores if you use it too much. A-Yu, are you listening to me?” he asked tiredly as he dropped the cloth to one side.

Mo Xuan-Yu smiled sweetly and petted the boy's short hair, “You're such a good boy A-Hari,” he praised, making the jade eyed boy sigh.

“Are you – alright?” the boy asked anxiously, “I saw the blood at the shack. Let me see?” he pleaded gently.

Mo Xuan-Yu was helpless to do anything but as he was told and carefully allowed the boy to look at his wounds. They were numerous and looked as though they had been carved in with something sharp but jagged, certainly not a knife, or if it was, probably serrated for how the wound had ripped the skin. It was horrific, and Lan Yuan's stomach turned in horror at the thought of this poor man, unable to understand what was being done to him, or understanding all too well what was going on but not _why_ , being harmed in such a manner. It was enough for him to wish to collect his fellow disciples and return immediately to the Cloud's Recess, let the dead take what it wished of Mo for clearly it was well deserved.

He took a breath and released it slowly, he would need to punish himself when he returned for such thoughts. They were not fit for a Gusu-Lan. He must reflect thoroughly on those thoughts, understand the root of them, and then seek to purge them from himself.

A-Hari sat back, biting on his lower lip, worrying it red between pale white teeth, “I need my potions' kit. I don't like the look of the ones on your stomach. They're deep enough to have nicked your intestines and they smell bad. If the fluids from the intestine get into the blood you will get blood-poisoning,” the boy lectured worriedly, taking Lan Yuan by surprise. He was more educated than his appearance suggested, his worn peasants' clothing and short cropped hair lent him the air of a criminal or an unwanted feral child scorning his parents. But to speak of potions and intestines and blood poisoning with such certainty – that he was so sure he could fix it too... interesting.

Mo Xuan-Yu's strange dark eyes flickered up to him in amusement, “I'm sure we will have our chance to get your bag back tonight,” he said cheerfully, flopping back on the grass.

A-Hari continued chewing his lip, “I could wait for the next delivery.... It is supposed to be soon.... And I've told Lady Weasley about you, she will have definitely included something for you.”

Mo Xuan-Yu shot upright, “Me?” he yipped excitedly, pointing to himself.

The boy huffed and smiled kindly at him, “Of course you. You're helping me with my curse so she wanted to make something nice for you. I think it might be a Weasley sweater, or a blanket. A-Hermione said she was helping along with A-Fleur.” Curse?

“Sweater, sweater? What was that again?” Mo Xuan-Yu muttered, scratching at his head with a bewildered frown.

A-Hari laughed, “You'll see when I get my bag back.”

Mo Xuan-Yu grinned wildly, full of mischief and realisation, “Ooh-hoh?”

“Mo Zi-Yuan reminds me too much of my own cousin. He'll have it hidden under his bed if he's smart. If he isn't, it'll be on his table, and you know he sleeps like a cicada. I'll just walk in and take it back,” the boy stated dismissively before prodding his Senior in the forehead, “Which was what I was _going_ to do anyway. Thank you for standing up for me, but they're going to be furious with you now.” He sighed looking skyward and spotted Lan Yuan on the roof watching them, jade green eyes widening for a moment as something complicated flickered over his face. He could feel the back of his neck getting hot with embarrassment at being caught doing something so shameful as eavesdropping and quickly looked away to busy himself with the blackflags, accidentally catching the mirthful expression of Second Master Mo in the process. A-Hari seemed to not care though, rubbing at the bandages on his head in discomfort, “If I say we should run away again, are you going to cry on me?” he asked tiredly, making Lan Yuan's hands falter on the flag he was setting up.

Running away? Were they actually.... _that_ way inclined? _Together?_

Mo Xuan-Yu beamed, “Nope. If they're going to steal from you then I don't want to be near them. Good children should be cherished,” he declared easily, simply, and for him it probably was that simple. A-Hari had been kind to him, taken care of him, no matter his shorn hair and lack of birth, he was clearly the hero in the lunatic's tragic story, rescuing him from the villainous Mo family. It was a thought process only too easily taken advantage of.

“I'm not a child, A-Yu,” A-Hari stated flatly, and Lan Yuan had to suppress both his amusement and his discomfort.

“Yes you are. You are a good boy and I have decided you are my son now,” Second Master Mo decried seriously, draping himself across the boy who stiffened in discomfort but only sighed and patted his back.

“Shouldn't this be the other way around?” A-Hari wondered with the absent tired kind of voice that Lan Yuan had _definitely_ heard from parents in the marketplace.

“AaaaAAAhh! So mean! You should respect your Seniors!” Mo Xuan-Yu complained with all the drama of a young mistress, flopping over in the boy's lap and rolling around unhappily.

“Careful of your wounds!” A-Hari yelped.

“What a pair of weirdos,” Jing-Yi complained behind him, jolting him back to the task he _should_ have been doing. “Will they be any trouble tonight, do you think?” his friend asked warily with a small nod down to the lunatic as he wallowed and pretended dire injury in order to be long-sufferingly babied by his 'son', who tolerated his flights of fancy with far greater patience than Lan Yuan thought even Hanguang-Jun, who was by far the most indulgent of the Gusu-Lan Sect cultivators, could have managed.

Recalling what he had overheard he grimaced a little. Theft was..... absolutely prohibited and shameful and absolutely unacceptable. But. _But_. They were his own belongings. Precious keepsakes of his parents and medicine he had made from his own hands. His only possessions if Lan Yuan was correct in his hearing, and he knew he was. Could it truly be considered theft if he was only reclaiming what had been previously lost?

“I think.... we should be vigilant, but I do not think they intend to disrupt us,” he concluded slowly before looking at Jing-Yi in all seriousness, “But that is no excuse to slack. There are dead roaming this village and lives in our keeping!”

Jing-Yi nodded seriously, knowing that it wasn't a rebuke as many of their agemates from other Sects might have taken it for, but simply a reminder of the cost should they not exercise the absolute diligence required of them as Disciples of the Gusu-Lan Sect.

When he looked back down, both of the two he had been watching were missing.

* * *

Fear made his stomach burn acrid and painful, made his throat dry, and everything too loud and too bright and too quick all at the same time. This was – unprecedented. The events here at the Mo Family estate would astound even the Venerable Seniors of the Gusu-Lan, and all that Lan Yuan could think was ' _Please let them get here in time – please do not let anyone else die tonight_ '.

Far too many had lost their lives already this eve.

More than ten ghouls, three fierce corpses suddenly manifesting in their presence, some manner of spirit arm that killed all three of them and another servant, and a typical old fashioned human murder where the killer wasn't even aware of the severity of his actions – Second Master Mo accidentally breaking the neck of a servant while dragging him away from beating his dearest friend. Believing that said servant was only irresponsibly 'napping' on the job.

Said lunatic was flailing around, not quite getting in the way but certainly complicating things as they tried to protect him _and_ themselves and – where was the jade eyed boy?

Lan Yuan looked around in a panic only to catch sight of him running from one of the side rooms, a large black travelling pack of such strange design it could have only belonged to him. Its make was the like of which he had never even imagined in his wildest dreams, and from within the many pockets and pouches seemingly sewn into it, the short haired boy drew glass phials with brightly coloured elixers within.

“CLEAR THE WAY!!” he yelled and threw two of them at the arm, giving them just enough warning to kick themselves free as the glass shattered and fluids erupted into icy coalescence – frost tearing through the air and solidifying in a burst of winter's breath.

Encasing the spirit arm and the fierce corpses fighting it in clear glass like pale blue icicles the width of a man's torso.

“Waaaahahaha!” the lunatic cheered in excitement, leaping at the short haired boy who had just committed an act of alchemy unheard of within the cultivation world. Lan Yuan gaped at him.

“Hey! Gusu-Lan!” the boy called, wriggling free of his charge, “That ice won't hold for long! It wasn't made for malevolent spirits, it has no purification properties! Do what you came here to do and quick!” he commanded as he readied yet more phials, these of startlingly different colours. “A-Yu, please, go back into the house where it's safe!”

Second Master Mo refused, throwing a tantrum, “No! No, no, no! The safest place is with A-Hari!!”

The ice creaked ominously, a deep twisted noise that set all the hair on the back of their necks on end in the dark of the night with death choking the air.

“Jing-Yi!” Lan Yuan called, quickly moving to position, his fellow disciple mirroring him on the otherside, sword drawn.

“Here she comes....” A-Hari warned with grim certainty. Lan Yuan wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that out of all of them.... he was by far the most 'defenceless' and yet still managed to be the most composed. He felt as though his heart was about to rabbit out of his very mouth and he knew his eyes were just that hair too wide to hide his utter terror. His hands sweated with fear, and it was only over a decade of practice and diligence that prevented them from shaking and throwing off his blade.

The ice creaked like a falling tree, and _shattered_.

The pressure from the explosion threatened to lift him from his feet, he had to firm himself against it as ice sprayed across the garden, tearing chunks through the wood and paperscreens around them, almost stabbing into both A-Hari and Second Master Mo if the two hadn't ducked behind the decorative rocks.

Madam Mo shrieked her fury to the heavens, swollen cursed arm lashing out as she fixed her eyes on the highest concentration of Yang energy near-by, himself and Jing-Yi behind him.

“No!” A-Hari's voice snapped out and from the corner of his eye he could see the boy step out with a potion phial –

Only for the air itself to burst with the thunderous twang of a familiar instrument, immediately crushing the spirit, and filling him with relief, bone-deep, as Hanguang-Jun stood above them.They were saved! Mo Village was saved!

It was such a relief that he completely missed Second Master Mo grabbing up A-Hari and his strange bag and fleeing the premises, stealing the donkey from the Western Courtyard.

“We don't want to be here anymore,” Wei Ying murmured to his young charge, “We'll only be in the way and _that guy_ is a joyless fuddy-duddy who'll take me away from A-Hari,” he warned unhappily even as he scooped the teenager into his arms, giving the donkey a kick to get it moving. For all the contempt it seemed to have for him, for Hari it was a perfectly agreeable animal with a few well-placed touches from his young charge.

“Take you away? Why?” he asked warily, glancing over their shoulder as the donkey galloped as fast as its stumpy little legs could carry them from the Mo village.

“I break the rules! All the time! And the Gusu-Lans' love rules! He would definitely put me in timeout and make me write three thousand rules once with my right hand and again with my left, however many times it takes to be perfect!” Wei Ying wailed dramatically, leaning against the boy's back, frowning unhappily at how thin he was. So young and trying so hard to take care of Mo Xuan-Yu in his insanity, had he spared any time to take care of himself? Wei Ying doubted it. And so he decided that it was time to take responsibility. He shifted a little closer and wound an arm around him. “Go to sleep, A-Hari. You have been awake a long time. I won't let you fall off,” he promised, rubbing his cheek against his child's bandaged head, making a mental note to offer a prayer to the maiden he had left him with before, who else would have wrapped his head?

“I – don't think I can sleep in this position, A-Yu,” he admitted uncomfortably, “It's way too bouncy!”

* * *

Hanguang-Jun had been very strange since they left the Mo Estate, since they left the blood stinking shack where Mo Xuan-Yu was brutalised by his family. A tearful maiden telling them of finding Second Master Mo and the unconscious child and the dead body of servant beside them. Second master Mo had placed the child in her care while he ran off to go and fetch potions from the house and all she could do was clean him up and bandage his head, the boy was helpful to all the servants if they asked it of him, he reserved his hatred for the Mo family and those who answered their demands to abuse Second Master Mo with glee but was kind to a fault to the rest of them.

She had cleaned most of the blood up, ghastly words written on the floor, and then handed Hanguang-Jun several pieces of paper. She couldn't read but he was investigating Second Master Mo and A-Hari, wasn't he? Maybe this would help, they had been on the floor.

Senior Lan Wangji had read through the papers at first dismissively, but Lan Yuan had not spent most of his life trying to please this man without learning how to read his facial expressions. Senior Lan Wangji was the closest thing he had to a father, he could see the upset on his face as he read through the tiny cramped characters written by the Second Master Mo. And then the final page. The final page that he read that made all the blood flee his face and even open his mouth.

The papers were tucked into his sleeves and he commanded them to come with him, they had mounted their swords and flown for days, scouring the landscape for any sign of the run away pair.

“Do you think he's a demonic cultivator?” Jing-Yi questioned quietly one evening, “That Mo Xuan-Yu.”

Lan Yuan pressed his lips together disapprovingly.

Speaking of others behind their backs was prohibited, especially if one were speaking ill of them. But it was a fair assessment to make. He had thought it himself at the time but not wanted to subscribe such evil acts to a man so obviously mentally incapable of understanding – but if someone were to introduce such things to him, would he even have the capacity to understand what it was wrong? Ghouls would follow the commands of the creator, so perhaps to him it was only that he was summoning friends to play with him, never realising the danger he was placing the people of Mo Village in.... He glanced to Senior Lan Wangji and hoped he would be merciful to Mo Xuan-Yu.

After what happened with the Yiling Patriarch and the history that Hanguang-Jun had with him....... It would not be impossible for Senior Lan Wangji to be...... less than..... – he looked down. He did not wish to think of such things. Not about Senior Lan Wangji.

“When we find him, we will find out,” he concluded unhappily.

If he was, then it would become their responsibility to rescue A-Hari before the well-meaning boy was harmed any further.

* * *

“Why are we going here if there's going to be a night hunt?” A-Hari protested as they continued up the mountain, he looked torn between anxious and irritated where he was perched atop Lil'Apple. They were taking turns to ride and with how dark it was, Wei Ying wasn't too keen on letting his child walk around in the forest where anything from roots or rocks or ghouls could grab at his too thin ankles. Mo Xuan-Yu had some cultivation, that was enough to reinforce him enough to take somewhat more punishment, but A-Hari was _so small_ , so small and thin, and he bruised like a _peach_. It would have been enough to ignite one's sadism if it hadn't been so horrifying to watch the boy shrug them off and continue as if he did not feel the obvious pain.

Wei Ying reached up to muss that fluffy short hair with glee, it was so soft, he loved it.

“You said you were looking for a cultivator, night hunts are where they are!” he proclaimed brightly, fighting the soft ache in his chest as the child leaned into his touch. From what he had learned since they fled Mo Village, it had been thirteen years since his death – Harry was roughly the same age as his sweet Wen Yuan would have been. His heart ached as he thought about the little boy who had chewed with such dedication on Chenqing that he couldn't use it. “Depending on your problems, we'll be better off trying to find one of the bigger Sects,” he decided as they continued walking.

He had been hoping that with a large night hunt he would get lucky and find them a good protector Ghoul, fierce ghosts would be the only thing to bring so many together in one location. And it would also give them the opportunity to seek help for Hari's problem. Speaking of.

“Did you tell me what was wrong? I don't recall....” he wondered, rubbing his chin. Depending on what it was, they may have to seek one Sect over another.

“You forgot?” A-Hari asked sounding both tired, amused, and a little sad. “I attract the dead and resentful spirits,” he explained quietly, rubbing Lil'Apple's neck. “You said I was.... cursed to be a walking 'Black Flag'.”

Wei Ying found himself stopping out of sheer horror and bewilderment. A curse such as that? To turn a living human into a beacon of resentful energy, to summon the dead and the dissatisfied to him?! A child who had not learned any manner of cultivation?! Who did not bear even a _single_ cruel bone in his body nor a rice grain of wroth?! What pathetic evil cretinous being would do something to such a child?

“A-YuAAAH!” Hari asked, twisting in his seat to look at him since he had stopped and fallen behind – only for the ground beneath him to burst with golden light and the ground itself rush up to swallow him.

“A-Hari!” Wei Ying squawked, taking a step forward before he realised it was just a spirit trap.

The child wheezed in pain as Lil'Apple brayed and thrashed unhappily, flailing in the netting and crushing Wei Ying's young charge. He floundered a moment, concern for Hari's body turning what would have been a rather humorous situation into one of legitimate anxiety – Lil'Apple was not a small creature, and she was strong, thrashing with all of her strength.

He didn't have anything that could break a spirit trap on him!

And if Hari was cursed to be a black flag there was absolutely no way he could be left unattended while Wei Ying went searching for someone to cut him down! There wouldn't be anything left!

But Lil'Apple might crush him to death if someone didn't come quickly!

“ARGH!! First those Sect-less losers and now some guy and a donkey?!” a young voice burst furiously behind him. “Not one single sign of anything decent!”

Wei Ying whipped around, spotting a Young Master wearing the bright golden robes bearing the white peony of the Lanling Jin Sect, he had a Vermillion mark upon his crown chakra, and possessed both a fine sword and a handsome bow with a bamboo canister of feathered arrows.

The Young Master stomped over and paused momentarily, eyeing Wei Ying, “Mo Xuan-Yu. What are _you_ doing out here?” he demanded nastily. “It doesn't matter what success you find as a cultivator, you won't be allowed back!”

Oh? Oh!

This body – Mo Xuan-Yu, had studied cultivation with the Lanling Jin Sect? Did that mean his father had been the notorious hound-dog Jin Guangshan – heh.... he had even thought as such had he not? That he had heard the tragic tale of Mo Xuan-Yu and his mother before though 'usually with the name Jin Guangshan attached'? How ironic that he now possessed the body of the bastard son of the second man to siege the burial mounds of the Yiling Patriarch. The first being Wei Ying's own adoptive brother, Jiang Wan-Yin.

He stuck his nose in the air, “Who wants to go back?! Not I! All the tasteless gold and ugly men will rot my eyes!” he cried unhappily.

“S-stop arguing, _and get me down!_ ” A-Hari shouted from the net overhead, wheezing in pain.

“Kuh, disgusting, damn cutsleeves,” Young Master Jin sneered.

He thought – Wei Ying bristled.

“Hey! Watch your tongue! How dare you speak so poorly to a Senior and make such allegations about A-Hari! You are without manners!!” He very nearly demanded to know what the boy's mother had been teaching him but the subject of parents, he thought, was probably sensitive to A-Hari whose parents had died a long time ago.

“ _I'm_ without manners?!” the Young Master squawked.

“ _GET ME THE FUCK DOWN FROM HERE BEFORE I TURN YOU BOTH INTO STATUES!!!!_ ” Hari roared, making Wei Ying jump because _goodness_ , the lungs on this child!! He had not heard such a bellow since Nie Ming-Jue commanded the battlefield during the SunShot campaign.

“Alright! Alright!” Young Master Jin agreed hurriedly and with ill grace as he sent his luminous golden sword swinging.

Mmn.... that was a familiar blade.

Where had he seen it before?

Hari yelled as the net was cut, dropping from the net and hitting the ground – with Lil'Apple landing on top of him.

The sound of his arm breaking was just loud enough that it couldn't be drowned out by the donkey's bray, or his own scream as the animal thrashed and trampled him.

Young Master Jin blanched, “I didn't – a fall from that height shouldn't have – what a weak and useless cultivator!”

“He isn't a cultivator!!” Wei Ying snarled angrily, immediately rushing to the child's side, “Let me see, A-Hari, let me see,” he said as the child curled up around his left arm, eyes shut with his teeth grit so hard he could hear them grinding. “We came looking for help, he has been cursed, and _you_ lay traps along trafficked roads without care for who may walk them and then berate one whom you should be protecting!!” he scolded rapidly, furious enough to call a ghoul to give the Young Master what he so desperately wanted but unwilling to do so with knowledge of Hari's curse and now his being injured.

“So this is why you lingered for so long?”

Wei Ying's blood ran cold at the voice. First Lan Zhan, then discovering he now wore the body of Jin Guangshan's bastard son, and now Jiang Cheng? Hari shuddered, sucking in a pained breath in front of him and he shoved all thoughts of his brother from his mind. They were no longer siblings. Wei Ying would always love him but he knew that was not returned, not any more, not after what he had done in his past life. Mo Xuan-Yu had no history with Jiang Wan-Yin.

He ignored his brother scolding the Young Master, closing his eyes against the sudden pain in his chest when he realised.... this was Jiang Yan-Li jie's precious son. This was the child he named in his last life. Jin Ru-Lan. Jin Ling, his nephew.

He swallowed the sticky dry pain in his throat and focused on Hari's arm.

“Good boy, you're such a good boy. Hold still while I get your bag off. Careful, careful,” he murmured soothingly as he hissed furiously allowing the heavy black bag to slide down his shoulders. Such strange almost silken material, and so tightly woven. This was no ordinary bag, no wonder Mo Zi-Yuan had stolen it. It was an incredibly high-class item!

“Third side pocket down on the right, phial with the green cap and the picture of the mint-leaf, get it for me please, A-Yu,” the jade eyed boy requested, the lines of his face tight with pain.

He dove in, trying not to notice how the pocket was... larger than it should have been, like a qiankun pouch, as he collected the small phial. The fluid inside was milky and green, thicker than water, more like an over stewed soup. He handed it over and watched as Hari eyed its colour before uncapping it with his teeth and swallowing the lot.

“Was that a healing potion?” Wei Ying asked hopefully.

Hari shook his head, “Pain relief only,” he said, relaxing slowly as no doubt the discomfort from his broken arm and whatever other injuries he had from Lil'Apple faded away. “It needs setting before I can use any of the healing potions, and I'll need to collect some more ingredients too. I used the last one I had on your ribs last week, remember?” he asked lightly.

“Ribs?” Jin Ling demanded from behind them, “What would you need to waste healing potions on this lunatic for?”

Hari eyed the other teenager coolly, “Because there are incredibly cruel people in the world who take joy in hurting others, and no one deserves to be harmed for something as _asinine_ and _pointless_ as who they love,” he lectured fiercely as he got to his feet. “What business is it of absolutely _anyone_ what two consenting adults get up to in their bedroom? Only a pervert, frothing at the mouth, thinking about what other people get up to behind closed doors with their own genitals, that's who!”

Jin Ling, who had opened his mouth to reply with something he no doubt thought particularly cutting, snapped it shut with a clack of teeth and a constipated scowl on his face as he tried to think of something to retort with that wouldn't paint him as one of those perverts. Wei Ying was thoroughly entertained.

There was a faint rustle behind them, and all eyes turned to see a tall figure in snow white appear from the darkness.

Hanguang Jun.

Wei Ying quickly caught Hari's good elbow and pulled him out of the Second Master Lan's way, only for Hanguang Jun to stop in front of them and hold his hand out to Hari.

Hari looked down at his hand and then up at his face, “Can I help you, Senior Lan?” he asked suspiciously. Wei Ying almost laughed at the slightly lost expression in Lan Wangji's face, he was actually going to have to use his words for this one, Hari was not a very trusting soul for all that he was a kind one.

“Your arm. It needs setting to heal,” the ever laconic Second Young Master Lan intoned, even as Wei Ying caught sight of the two skilled Disciples from Mo Village arriving, the taller of the pair politely bowing to him before facing Jiang Wan-Yin and Jin Ling. The two were neatly put together despite having expended their over-robes during the incident with the arm, it seemed as though they had not yet returned to the Cloud Recesses but rather followed Lan Wangji as he came... here? For some reason?

Hari glanced up at him, and Wei Ying debated for a heartbeat. Lan Wangji might take his sword to Wei Ying in a heartbeat without remorse, but Hari was not a cultivator, demonic or otherwise, he would never harm a child.

“It's safe, promise,” he soothed. “Hanguang Jun is most honourable.”

Hari's lips thinned as his face twisted uncertainly. It still broke his heart a little to see him _wanting_ to trust, but finding it so hard as he turned back to the patiently waiting Lan Wangji, his two disciples quietly but respectfully calling out Jiang Cheng's terrible behaviour in trying to stack the odds of Jin Ling's success on a night-hunt by making it difficult for other cultivators. He wet his lips before taking a breath and extending his swollen red arm. It looked even worse when Lan Wangji's much larger hands, snow white against livid red, grasped the limb and – Wei Ying shuddered at the noise of it being reset. Bones. Bones were always a sound that would set his stomach to turn. He didn't know what it was about the sound but....

Hari paled three shades, going almost translucent as his breathing shuddered, but he didn't move his arm away as Lan Wangji splinted it with two arrow shafts, the ends broken off neatly, and bound his arm expertly.

Hari swallowed when he was finally done, “Thank you,” he said uncomfortably, peering up at the much taller cultivator who nodded silently, not stepping away even as another member of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect came racing over to report that all four hundred of the spirit capturing nets had been destroyed by a flying blue sword – the work of Lan Wangji himself. Wei Ying was honestly astonished – Hanguang Jun had somehow gotten even _more_ uptight about people breaking rules if it were possible!!

Aiyah! Jiang Cheng was fiddling with Zidian! Surely he was about to lose his temper!

Wei Ying was swift to interpose himself between Hari and his brother, one hit from Zidian to an ordinary person would flay the flesh and who knew what the purple lightning would do! Though he had seen this whip in action many times, felt it on his back at the hands of its former wielder, his step-mother Madam Yu, he had never seen it taken to a person without a Golden Core. Never mind a child as delicate as Hari. And since they were all here on the night-hunt, much like Young Master Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng would assume that Hari was a cultivator and show no mercy – less still if he even suspected that Mo Xuan-Yu had even the slightest to do with Wei Wu-Xian.

Lan Wangji glanced at them from the corner of his eye and though there was no change to his face or posture, for some reason he suddenly seemed.... _bigger?_ When he looked back at Jiang Cheng who continued to scowl as darkly as the thunder clouds in which his favoured weapon was said to be born of.

The two glared at each other, ice versus lightning, an unmoving mountain in the face of a growling thunderstorm.

Jin Ling laid a hand on his sword, and Jiang Cheng snapped his head around like a dog scenting blood, “Behave!” he snapped, voice cracking through the air just as assuredly as Zidian had been about to. “Did I tell you to draw your sword?”

The Young Master subsided with a scowl and a pout, folding his arms petulantly.

The young disciple, Lan... Si-Zhui? Stepped forward and bowed respectfully, “Sect Leader Jiang Wan-Yin, we will reimburse you for the nets we destroyed,” he promised politely. What an upright young man! Wei Ying smiled and reached back, petting Hari's short fluffy hair, hopefully he too could raise such a fine young man. His child quickly swatted him away with a wary look in Jiang Cheng's direction, his left arm curled protectively to his chest even as his right – oh! A phial already to hand! It was not a familiar colour and the cap on it was grey.... he wondered what it meant....

“No need,” Jiang Cheng grunted before turning to his nephew, his next words coming out harsh and full of thorns, “Why are you still standing there? Waiting for the prey to come and throw itself onto your sword? If you don't catch the creature hunting Dafan Mountain, don't come to me ever again!”

“Please wait,” Lan Wangji interrupted quietly, drawing attention for the first time that night, “On Dafan Mountain dwells an unusual spirit,” he warned, “Please be careful.”

Lan Si-Zhui nodded slightly, “In Mo Village, some days ago, a spirit manifested and in less than half an hour it killed four people. It is ferocious. Through our carelessness, it managed to escape.”

Hari inhaled sharply behind him, and Wei Ying felt his hand against his back.

“Did it attack anyone else?” he whispered quietly to the other disciple, Lan... Ying-Ji? Jing-Yi? Ah, his memory was terrible.

The Lan disciple shook his head, smiling reassuringly, “There has been no sign of such. And after the mess of the Mo family, it would have been very obviously found.”

Hari's lips pressed together tightly and he looked up at Wei Ying anxiously before looking to them, “Is it only targetting those of the Mo family then?” he asked, and Wei Ying paused at the very obvious conclusion to draw. The arm attacked and murdered all the blood members of the Mo family and ran wild. All that remained was... Mo Xuan-Yu. Him. And since the arm had escaped, and not killed again, with the Gusu-Lan Sect hunting it to Dafan Mountain, _where he was_....

The Disciple's eyes went round with sudden realisation, “That – is most likely,” he agreed. But it was not the conclusion they had drawn themselves.

It was only too easy to think of which one they had drawn given how Wei Ying had reanimated those corpses to fight.

He chuckled nervously, and felt Hari's hand tighten in his clothing as Lan Wangji turned to his disciples, the two immediately falling in respectfully. “Search the mountain carefully, but don't push yourselves too hard. I will remain with Mo Xuan-Yu and....” he paused then, turning to Hari.

“Potter Harry, nice to meet you and thank you for earlier,” he said respectfully, bowing the way he had seen others do, it was clearly an unfamiliar gesture to him, he bowed far too low, and his hands were held incorrectly. Not that he could have done particularly well with a broken arm but still....

Lan Jing-Yi snorted.

Lan Si-Zhui elbowed him reprimandingly.

Lan Wangji nodded, but made no comment even as Hari's cheeks went a little pink with embarrassment as he straightened up. The two disciples ran off and Hari leaned over to Wei Ying, “I did the bow wrong, didn't I?” he asked softly and Wei Ying burst out laughing, “Oh cut it out! You only bow to _royalty_ and hippogriffs back home otherwise you're bearing the back of your neck for no good reason!!” he flared, smacking his arm as he continued to cackle.

“You do not need to bow,” Lan Wangji interrupted softly, standing statue still, watching them in the dark.

Hari shuffled, “I think – I kind of do, Senior Hanguang-Jun? Your culture puts a lot of emphasis on respect and I don't want to be rude. I apologise if I have been at any point prior.”

“No one will expect it from you,” he stated calmly.

“Ah, the hair, right,” Wei Ying concluded with a snap of his fingers.

Hari frowned at him, “Hair? I noticed that everyone has long hair but what does it have to do with anything?” he asked warily, making both of them pause. “Is it another culture thing I missed?”

“Your hair is a gift from your parents,” Wei Ying explained, petting the fluffy again with a beam, “Keeping it long is considered a mark of respect to them. Cutting it is usually only done to criminals or if you wish to disrespect your ancestors. But don't worry, your hair is cute like this, very fluffy, like rabbit fur!” He grinned happily flattening a strand only for it to spring back up when he took his hand away.

“Ugh! A-Yu! Stop it!”

“Noooo!! It's too cute!” he declared digging both hands in to mess it up even further, ignoring Lan Wangji who watched them in silence as Hari tried to elbow him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys have been enjoying the fic so far - I promise, I will not give up on Ashes to New, I'm still writing it. In fact, I'm working on it right now, I'm just uploading this so I'll have some nice comments to read when I'm done, as a treat, something to look forward to <3 I'm still trying to decide how much of this bitch I intend to derail though because I have a good opportunity with Xue Yang and I'm just trying to figure out how some judicious use of truth serum may reverberate through everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Jiang Cheng's blood lust, soul stealing, humans being eaten, combat.

Lil'Apple eventually slunk back to them, head lowered mournfully and nosing into Hari's back whining pathetically for breaking his arm, and of course Hari was an absolute soft touch and wasted no time in soothing the animal.

“How did you miss all this while travelling for so many months?” Wei Ying wondered aloud, watching the pair with Lan Wangji stood close by, trying not to feel uncomfortable with the Second Young Master of Lan practically breathing down his neck and _looming_ behind him like that.

Hari shrugged a shoulder as he rubbed Apple's ears gently, “I studied the closest approximation of your language as much as I could before coming but – it was kind of the difference between my own and what was spoken a good five hundred years ago. By the time I managed to get my head around the differences I was already at Mo Village. And the last time I asked you about hair, you burst into tears. It was one of the bad days,” he explained easily, as if a child his age having to deal with a man Mo Xuan-Yu's lunatic moodswings was normal and natural, expected even.

“You are an Outlander,” Lan Wangji concluded suddenly, as if it hadn't been obvious just from looking at Hari's face. Then again, the Gusu-Lan Sect did not work on conjecture nor speak of people behind their backs, they would wait until they had certainty before speaking, and always look to see the best in all. Made Wei Ying wonder where that 'see the best in people' was when it came to him in his last life because Lan Wangji certainly had made no effort.

“Yes. This place was safer for my... circumstances,” he admitted hesitantly, glancing to Wei Ying for guidance. Oh yes. They came to Dafan to seek help for his curse.

Right, well, there was really no one better to ask save _maybe_ Jiang Cheng but – ahh.... Wei Ying worried. Even a whiff of demonic cultivation, which was what this curse seemed very much like, may set him to trying to kill Hari to resolve his problem rather than help him. Lan Wangji was perhaps the _best_ person to ask aside from Wei Ying himself actually, and he couldn't reveal his knowledge of demonic cultivation to Hari without revealing that Mo Xuan-Yu was dead.

“Yes! Yes!” He exclaimed, bouncing over and throwing himself at his child, spinning him around and presenting him to Lan Wangji, “Hanguang-Jun, please help! A-Li is cursed! It's awful! He needs a powerful cultivator to save him!!”

Hari spluttered, “I'm not – _I'm fine!_ It's other people I'm worried about!” he exclaimed, his voice pained, because of course this lovely child would be more concerned with others than himself.

“What is the issue?” Lan Wangji asked gently, stepping forward carefully and shifting so as not to loom quite so threateningly.

His child glanced back at him and Wei Ying beamed, nudging him forward, hands on his shoulders, “It's fine, tell him, he can help.”

When Wei Ying looked up at him, he paused in slight surprise to see such a soft expression on Lan Wangji's face. It was hard to tell, but he had known this man for most of his life, it was all in the eyes. But he waited patiently as Hari tried to find the words to explain his current situation.

Unfortunately they didn't have the chance as there was a rustle in the trees and a white stooping figure shuffled towards them, murmuring faintly. Hari inhaled sharply hand jumping to his pockets where his phials sat, and Lan Wangji straightened completely, turning once again into an impassable mountain in front of them as the spirit meandered over, a large bloodied hole glaring out from his forehead.

“He shouldn't be out and about,” Wei Ying murmured, eyeing his fine burial robe. It was good material and craftsmanship, meaning he had already been en-coffined and buried properly. This wasn't the soul that a _living_ human had lost. And a ghost such as this shouldn't have appeared on Dafan Mountain. Not unless.... “A-Li?” he asked, looking at his charge who shook his head, looking concerned but also tired.

“I've not seen this kind before. I don't think I roused it, but it is attracted all the same,” he admitted with tired certainty.

Wei Ying did not like this.

Something strange was going on in this mountain, first the talk of the soul-snatching in the village that brought this area to the attention of cultivators, the compasses of evil that wouldn't pick anything up, Hari attracting burial spirits.... Hadn't he heard of a divine temple in the area? Something about a natural stone statue of a goddess, the other cultivators they had passed on the trail had spoken of it...... Oh no. This wasn't a fierce ghoul or ghost!

He inhaled sharply, this wasn't - “We need to find the other kids,” he concluded looking up at Lan Wangji, “It isn't what we thought it was, the creature in Dafan Mountain, we need to go – _now!_ ”

There was no argument, no demand for explanation, Lan Wangji nodded shortly and mounted his sword as Wei Ying leapt up onto Lil'Apple's back and hauled Hari up with him, leaning down and snatching his bag as they rode off up the mountain to the temple. “It's very likely that the Goddess Statue has gained sentience, and seeks to claim more power through stealing souls instead of prayer!” he explained to Hari as they rode.

The boy grimaced, “I have one thing that could maybe deal with a God but I can't _use_ it anymore!” he groaned, legs flexing as he kept his balance on Apple's back as they galloped to the temple and he rummaged in his bag. “It's dark so I can call a couple of lights, you said its a statue right? What'll happen if it breaks?”

“It'll be defeated. If we can get the core of it, then the people whose souls were stolen can even be returned!” Wei Ying explained, “But it'll be tough, something like that will be immune to a lot of things!”

“Is it immune to acid? Lightning?” Hari demanded as he pulled some manner of fastening a split open a pocket with round potion bottles inside it, these bottles had strange symbols written on them and Wei Ying couldn't help but think them ominous.

“What is acid?” he demanded nervously.

“Liquid that eats what it touches until nothing is left. I guess we'll find out when we get there. If not, good old fire and ice will eventually break her!”

They burst into a scene of chaos in the temple and Hari wasted no time in flinging a bottle into the air and shouting something in a tongue unrecognisable to Wei Ying's ears – the bottle burst and a sun exploded into the room, washing it with light and illuminating the several small cultivation sects and the children, the two Lan disciples and Jin Ling.

“Everyone out! The Goddess is the soul stealer!!” Wei Ying shouted, too little, too late.

“Th Goddess' pose has changed!”

She stepped off her plinth.

“Run, run, run! Stop slashing around! It won't work!!” Wei Ying shouted, pulling on Lil'Apple's reins as she started braying in a panic, unhappy with the whole situation. But he was ignored. The soul-consuming monster that they had tried so hard to find was right in front of them, why would they miss out on the chance to capture and suppress it, bringing honour and note to their clans in the process?! However, no matter how many swords and talismen and magical tools were being thrown around, the statue's advance didn't stop in the slightest, not even when Hanguang-Jun arrived and added the suppressing strings of his guqin to the task.

At three metres, she was a fearsome sight to behold, her very aura oppressive and commanding, one of her six arms snapped out, thick and unnaturally muscular for such a slender form and snatched up two cultivators who were not quick enough to leap free. Her stone mouth opened as she brought them in close, and, it closed. Both men falling limp, their eyes empty, swords dropping from slack fingers. Their souls ripped away.

Hari muttered something bitter and angry under his breath, unfamiliar tongue harsh on the edge of Wei Ying's ears. He didn't know what a 'Di Men-Tor' was, but it was no swear that Wei Ying knew of.

But that arm....

Were they truly so unlucky?

Had the Goddess decided to take the arm for herself, or had the arm taken her for himself?

With those men now soulless, the other cultivators were more willing to listen and quickly fled the chamber. Lil'Apple only too pleased to follow once they were free, Hari jumped from the saddle and drew a familiar elixer, the ice one from Mo Village and threw it into the cave, sealing the entrance.

“That isn't going to hold her for long, prepare what you can!” he shouted to the other cultivators.

“Who are you to command us, child?” one of the older cultivators barked.

“Who are you to be so stupid in the face of a superior enemy?!” Hari snapped back, “That thing ripped out two souls! This isn't the time to squabble like children!”

Lan Si-Zhui shoved his way closer, “Potter Ha-Li, how long will your elixer hold her back in such confines?” he asked breathlessly, bowing briefly.

Hari glanced at the cave, at the groaning ice and the trembling stone. “Not long. The cave compacted the ice forming a solid glacier, it will be hard to break. But that thing is stronger than the arm. We probably have the same amount of time. So hurry up with whatever suppression arrays you people use! If we get the core we can return the souls of your colleagues and those people down in the village!!” he shouted, turning to the rest of the cultivators, several of whom bristled angrily at someone so young giving orders.

Lan Wangji stepped forward and began to work without comment, his disciples quickly following suit.

Good ol' Lan Zhan, a man most certainly of action – if a suggestion was correct, regardless of if it came from a Junior or a Senior, he would take it. And with the Honourable Hanguang-Jun taking the lead, any who did not follow suit would be shamed for looking so petty by comparison.

Wei Ying giggled to himself as his son immediately threw a second potion to the air and summoned another sun for them to see clearly by, ignorant to the gasps and speculative looks from the cultivators around them. An apothecary was a rare being to find on a night-hunt, very few were brave enough to venture into the field to seek their herbs and resources, preferring to hire cultivators from their Patron Sects in order to do so for them. Many were looking at him with new eyes, that he was here himself likely meant he _had_ no Patron Sect. And yet – they thought twice now, looking to the sun overhead and the glacier shielding them – those were true acts of genius.

Wei Ying pouted and pulled his son close, ignoring the startled squawk and flail his possessive action garnered. None of these beasts were worthy of patroning his child when they looked down on him so only moments prior.

He _might_ have made an exception for the Gusu-Lan Sect but they were so stuffy and dull, Hari would hate it just as much as Wei Wu-Xian had as a Disciple learning under them.

The ice groaned warningly And they saw white fractures lace out and flake across the surface of it.

“Here she comes, get free unless you want – ” whatever Hari was about to say was lost as the entire ice structure shot out of the cave and exploded, dousing the sun outside and leaving them in the sudden deep black. Some of the weaker cultivators cried out, blinded, while those Seniors who were stronger barely reacted as the Goddess burst from her temple and scattered them, none of the arrays doing anything beyond slow her down!

Not even the Jiang Sect's bell held her back for longer than a few seconds and Wei Ying was too busy trying to find Jin Ling to realise he had lost track of Hari before he saw his foolishly brave son tackling one of the Jiang Sect out from the Goddess' grasping fingers as she ripped her way out of the bell – the child twisting cat-like as he fell back, potion phial with a bile yellow cap smashing into her hand.

The Goddess _shrieked_ , snapping her arm back into the bell, and Hari sprawled on the ground, rolling away from the fallen cultivator he'd just saved to strip his smoking clothing off, some of the fluid having splashed back onto him. He flung his shirt aside, leaving himself in only his undergarment as the grey fabric shrivelled up and dissolved in front of them all and the Goddess screamed and writhed within her bell before tearing her way free.

Aiming for Hari.

“Oh fuck,” the boy cursed and bolted as the explosion of spiritual energy and the destruction of the bell set the mountain ablaze around them.

Jin Ling let fire with several arrows, temporarily drawing her attention, but it wasn't going to be enough – Wei Ying couldn't afford to worry about being discovered anymore, not with this amalgamation of Arm and Goddess running around! He grabbed a fallen sword and got to work, slicing a length of bamboo and tooling it roughly to form, this was going to sound pig-ugly but as long as it got the job done, as long as there was something with enough _resentment_ here, it was enough!

The Goddess froze, straining, firelight glinting off the silk-thread thin guqin strings holding her in place, all tracing back, looped around trees and rocks, to the fingers of Lan Wangji.

His disciples shot forward, one scooping Hari up and retreating to safety while the other slammed as many seals as he could onto the Goddess statue – Lan Wangji grunted, stumbling forward a step, blood spurting from his fingertips as he held the wires tight and she fought him furiously. What ridiculous arm strength! To battle a stone Goddess on par while she was wedded to that evil arm!

“Separate them!” Hari called suddenly from the Lan Disciple's grasp, “Someone get the cursed arm away from her! They'll be easier to subdue when separated!!”

“We KNOW that boy!” a cultivator snapped.

“Then _why_ aren't you _doing it?!!_ ”

The wires tinkled as they strained and Lan Wangji's face twisted in pained determination, his teeth _actually_ gritting as he planted his feet and leaned back with all of his considerable strength against the Goddess and the evil arm.

And it all came crashing down when the lesser cultivators lunged for her – and cut through the guqin wires restraining her.

Four lost their souls in an instant, one his whole upperhalf to her mouth as she whipped around and swallowed him in a fountain of blood as his legs dropped uselessly to the ground, spilling innards across the grass. Hari cried out in horror, and the Goddess turned to him again, shedding the strings like spider's webs.

He raised the flute and played.

He would be answered! Let it be something strong! Strong enough to fight the Goddess and the arm at once!

Lan Wangji looked at him, and Wei Ying felt all the hair on his body stand on end. He had given himself away, his second life was going to be very short indeed, but if with this he could protect these children, he would have no regrets. Not a single one!

Chains erupted from the darkness, lashing into the Goddess and stopping her with far more brutal finality than Lan Wangji's guqin strings – shattering three of her stone arms. A roar from the darkness, ferocious and powerful, and familiar.

Wei Ying's breath stuttered, the shrieking notes of his rough flute wavering and hitching as _Wen Ning_ appeared in the glowing darkness, lit by forest fires around them. He still wore the robes he had when last Wei Ying had seen him, in his first life, before even the Siege of the Burial Mounds. He had been told, they had _all_ been told, Wen Ning, the Ghost General of the Yiling Patriarch had been destroyed, his ashes scattered as assuredly as his sister, Wen Qing, the doctor that he had owed so much to in that first life.

Wen Ning tore into her, the unfamiliar shackles attached to his arms and legs clashing viciously into her stone body, shattering it as he grabbed that arm and _tore it from her_ , flinging it aside as he focused on breaking the Goddess statue to _powder_. Throwing her to the ground and grasping a rock taller than the height of a normal human, and hefted it above his head with inhuman strength, slamming it down onto her with great force, each blow sounding as loud as thunder.

But as eyes watched Wen Ning destroy the Goddess, others attention was spared to the evil arm as it lunged, independent of its former wielder, straight at Hari.

A second phial created a shield of ice bare moments before the Lan disciple, Lan Si-Zhui scooped him up and flung them both aside and Lan Wangji _landed_ on the cursed arm, sleeves pulled down over his bloody fingers so as to prevent the spirit from invading him through open wounds as he forced it down to the ground.

“Lan Si-Zhui, the Demon Entrapping bag,” he called, his robe sleeves igniting as the protective spells reacted to such concentrated resentment lashing out at him.

With the arm contained, and the Goddess statue so much fine powder as to be used for porcelain, all eyes turned to Wen Ning and Wei Ying as he played. All eyes, including Jiang Cheng at the other end of the clearing, Zidian already crackling violet with the full weight of his wroth. He was too far away to be heard, but Wei Ying saw his name on his brother's lips only too easily, and the smile of evil glee he wore when torturing Wen cultivators to death curl upon those thin lips of his.

His flute shrilled, and Wen Ning ran just as Zidian split the air and lashed his arm – laying him flat.

Yep. That was Zidian most certainly!

Jiang Cheng wielded it with his mother's deft hand! And thrice her resentment at that – he could feel it burning across his skin seeking to unanchor him but...

“That _hurt! What was that for!_ Ungrateful! And after everything I did to help!!” he complained in outrage as he sat up, cradling his arm with a pout. This was not a body he was 'possessing', but one that he had been given. The anchors of his soul were fully embedded without a hint of scar or struggle or resentment for Zidian to pry him free from. Ahhh, the look on Jiang Cheng's face was as sweet as the time he stuffed the lotus seeds with spice and tricked him into eating one – only with less tears, gagging, and red cheeks.

“A-Yu!” Hari called in alarm as Jiang Cheng growled and stalked forward.

“Young Master, no!” Lan Si-Zhui cried, trying to catch Wei Ying's stubborn child as he bolted forward, ready to throw himself between Mo Xuan-Yu and what he perceived as a threat as he had many times before.

It was easy to see Jiang Cheng's suspicions changing tracks. The hatred in his eyes finding a new target even as Zidian coiled out anew – and was blocked, firmly, by Lan Wangji's own forearm.

This was bad.

Wei Ying didn't wait, he had to get Hari out of there. He had outed himself as a demonic cultivator, Lan Wangji knew exactly who he was even though it was now clear he was _not_ possessing this body, but Jiang Cheng thought that _Hari_ was Wei Wu-Xian. Thought that he was teaching Mo Xuan-Yu demonic cultivation because there was no way someone like Mo Xuan-Yu would have been able to summon or control the likes of _Wen Ning, the Ghost General_ , who could only be controlled by the Yiling Patriarch. So it was an understandable conclusion to draw, regardless of the fact that Hari was completely his opposite in personality and had not displayed even a lick of cultivation this night, spiritual or demonic.

He grabbed his charge's good arm, pausing in concern at the shadows of bruises already forming on what skin could be seen, the scratches on his face from the events of the night. His son was cold to the touch and shivering faintly either from chill or post battle-high but either way, they needed to go. Where was Lil'Apple.... _there_. Somehow she had refrained from fleeing despite the combat and was lurking by a fallen tree further down the path, Hari's bag still tied to her.

He ran, pulling Hari along with him.

He heard the yell before he heard the whip, and felt Hari's arm jerk in his grasp.

Zidian had caught his broken arm, shredding through the splints and bandages to tear through soft skin and muscle, spilling innocent blood.

“What?!” Jiang Cheng snarled when that _too_ failed to tear away the soul of Wei Wu-Xian.

“Let me see, A-Li, let me see!” Wei Ying demanded, crouching beside his child anxiously, curling himself protectively around him so that Jiang Cheng couldn't even _see_ him without having to tear Wei Ying out of his path. Hari shuddered, sucking in a tight breath as he wordlessly extended his arm.

“It hurts a lot less than it looks, A-Yu, I promise. I took medicine earlier, remember?” he soothed, because of _course_ he was trying to sooth someone when he himself was injured! This child!

He grimaced miserably as he examined the injury. His bones had come out of alignment again, they would need resetting. The flesh had been ripped through and grated. Blood ran freely and dripped down his fingers onto the earth.

“Who are you?!” Jiang Cheng demanded furiously, glaring at them.

“None of your _fucking_ business you goddamn fucking shitlip son of a _bitch!!_ ” Hari snarled back, “Who the fuck are _you_ attacking people with a goddamn fucking soul-stealing fucking whip you absolute cock-gargling _thunder cunt!_ ” Wei Ying was fairly sure his jaw was on the floor at the absolute _foul_ language his child was spitting like arrows at his brother. Where had his sweet and kind son learned such language? Better yet how to use such? He felt faint! Just looking at Lan Wangji and his disciples he felt embarrassed by the horror writ across their faces, such delicate ears had never experienced such blistering before in their lives!

“He is the head of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect and Clan, Jiang Wan-Yin!” one of the Jiang Sect members declared furiously, “Respect your Elders!!”

“I'll respect them when they've proven themselves worthy of respect, Shit for Brains!” his firecracker of a son retorted, and Wei Ying had to cover his mouth before he truly blistered anyone's ears, he was winding up for a tear, the same one that had set Madam Mo to fainting and Mo Xuan-Yu in love.

“I guess it's true what they say,” he sneered unhappily, glaring with a sour smile at his once brother, “When you come from the big Sects you can do as you please, however you please, to whomever you please. Shameful,” he laughed bitterly. Jiang Cheng had more reason than any to hate Wei Wu-Xian, but to attack a child in such a fashion? It seemed as though his hatred had grown unreasonable and aged like fine wine into something stronger, and harsher. Any guilty of demonic cultivation now earned his vengeance, and apparently even those connected to them could face such cruelty.

Lan Si-Zhui looked to his Senior in distress, “This is getting out of hand,” he lamented unhappily, and Jiang Wan-Yin made declarations to take them both back to Lotus Pier, where they would both no doubt be tortured to death. “What do we do, Hanguang-Jun?”

Perhaps it was one of his Juniors looking for guidance, or it was the way that Hari swayed so dangerously with his face so pale to look almost glowing in the firelight, blood dripping from his broken arm to the forest floor, snapping and snarling at the Yunmeng Jiang members as they approached, but Lan Wangji stepped forward with obvious intent. “They will come to Cloud Recesses,” he declared plainly, before nodding to Si-Zhui, “See to his injuries,” he ordered, receiving a bow of relief as the disciple quickly moved to their side, leaving Lan Wangji to argue their case against Jiang Cheng.

Wei Ying wished him luck, he was more preoccupied with Hari's bleeding. He was so small that even a small amount of blood loss would exhaust him entirely, or so he thought? Wei Ying didn't know how non-cultivators handled injuries, they were all so delicate by comparison and died easily from injuries that would have only been a bare inconvenience in his last life.

Lan Si-Zhui didn't seem to take much issue with tending to Hari, not even blinking at getting blood all over his hands as he carefully and gently straightened the broken arm, and then dug into his qiankun bag producing clean bandages and a cleaning elixer that he used on the wounds. Hari grimaced but looked away instead to watch the argument between Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng rather than watch his own flesh be treated. He was bandaged again, Lan Jing-Yi appearing with bamboo shafts cut to length to act as splints, they were bandaged again to his arm and a third length of fabric was produced to act as a sling.

“There. How does that feel, Potter Ha-Li?” Lan Si-Zhui asked kindly as he finished tying the ends of the fabric behind the Outlander's neck, adjusting it thoughtfully before making a knot at the elbow of loose fabric so it would sit comfortably.

Hari tested the arm with a small frown before nodding and smiling at him, “It's good. Thank you, Lan Si-Zhui,” he said with a smile and a dip of his head in gratitude.

Was the firelight playing tricks on Wei Ying's eyes or did little Junior Lan Si-Zhui just turn a little bit pink at that?

“We're going,” Lan Wangji announced appearing at their side silently enough that Wei Ying couldn't have stopped himself from yelling and flailing himself into Hari if he tried, his cute son immediately shifting in front of him before realising who it was and going pink. Lan Wangji inclined his head slightly and shifted his posture, suddenly looming an awful lot less and seemingly much more approachable as he held a hand out and then gently patted Hari's head before brushing past.

“Yes Hanguang-Jun!” the two disciples chorused as they quickly fell into step with him, one even kindly going to fetch Lil'Apple.

Wei Ying would have preferred to ride but.... He swept Hari up and parked him on top of Lil'Apple instead. “Where is your spare robe? You can't go riding around in your undergarment at night, you'll get a cold!” he declared examining the openings on the bag curiously. Now how did these work? The looked more like the fringes of a fly-trap than any kind of button or tie that he was familiar with. He had seen Hari use them before but never closely, and he had always been more interested in other things than _bag fastenings._

Hari sighed and reached over with his good arm to grab the bag off him, “It's enchanted, you won't be able to open the main pockets. Only I can.”

“Really? How does that work?” Lan Jing-Yi asked excitedly as Hari sat with his legs crossed atop Lil'Apple, Wei Ying was curious as well.

Hari smiled a little awkwardly, “My friend, my... sworn sister? Is very skilled,” he explained as he opened up one of the central large pockets and peered into the deep red coloured opening, he pulled out two pieces of cloth that looked _very_ fine. Unnaturally so, Wei Ying realised as he peered at the weave of the fabric and pinched a little between his fingertips. This wasn't linen, or silk, or wool. It was much thinner. The threads were as fine as silk but woven, _knitted_? Differently to create some kind of light stretchy fabric. Each warp and weft perfectly unnaturally uniform.

Now, Wei Ying was not exactly body shy, he had a body to be proud of in his first life and he had grown up swimming amongst the boys of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect where stripping off and throwing oneself in the lake was how you _survived_ summer. But even _he_ would have had some second thoughts about removing his undergarment top in front of strangers, especially from the Gusu-Lan Sect. Yet this was exactly what Hari did while perched atop Lil'Apple. Taking only a moment to wriggle his way out of the sling in order to shrug his broken arm free of his overlarge sleeve.

Lan Si-Zhui spluttered and quickly looked away while Lan Jing-Yi squawked and slapped hands over his eyes. Wei Ying however frowned and peered closer, “What manner of brand is that on your chest? And this, what is this?” he demanded angrily when he felt the resentful energy _radiating_ from both the small coin sized burn beneath his collarbones and the finger-length lightning bolt scar etched into his child's chest.

Never mind how _thin_ this child was! Every rib and knot in his spine was stark and visible! There was not a single strip of spare flesh to be found on him, and yet even more scars still! Many of which looked far too old and _radiated_ resentment still! In fact, the number of scars that _didn't_ was vastly outnumbered!! What had his child been involved in that caused such wounds?!

Hari grunted and worked his broken arm through one of the black sleeves of his clothes before sliding his other arm in and then pulling the whole log up and over his head. There was no fastening on his top, and it stopped at his waist and at the base of his neck, then, to confuse them further, he took the second piece of clothing and did the same thing again, only this red one had shorter sleeves and was longer and larger, allowing the black top beneath to be visible. He then reached into the bag again and pulled out a third layer, larger and bobbly, _this_ was made out of wool, a deep reddish brown, maroon, and he pulled it on in the same fashion, practically _drowning_ in the fabric as he sighed in relief, hunkering down in the fabric in a way that reminded Wei Ying that Hari grew cold very quickly and easily. No doubt in part due to how small he was.

He began to struggle into his sling, “The brand came from a possessed piece of jewellery we were trying to destroy. It burned whenever you tried to take it off,” he stated with a careless shrug as he closed up his bag and handed it back to Wei Ying to be carried as he couldn't very well do it himself with the broken arm. “The other is from a death curse. I think it was what got me cursed, because I've had it before but nothing like this happened before,” he explained, lifting the fringe of his short hair to reveal a matching lightning bolt upon his forehead, much faded. So faded in fact that Wei Ying couldn't even sense a lick of resentful energy lingering upon it.

“Did you anger a demonic cultivator or something?” Lan Jing-Yi demanded, horrified and impressed at the same time.

Hari shook his head, “We don't have cultivation in my home country. But.... I imagine it is the closest equivalent. And no, it was nothing I did _personally_. At least the first time anyway. It's complicated.”

Wei Ying tucked his hands behind his head, “Well. It's a long trip to the Cloud Recesses, and you were hoping for help. No better time to explain than now.”

Hari sighed, “I – alright..... To make a long story as short as possible, I was cursed to be something that A-Yu called a 'black flag'. I attract the dead. Which meant that I couldn't stay at home where there was no cultivation, no one knew how to handle the Fierce Corpses or Ghouls. Our undead don't _act_ like this. And there were tens of thousands of people who couldn't protect themselves in the city I lived in. So I was sent away, but it was too dangerous to be on my own with the curse so my sworn sister found out about the Sects and Cultivators, and sent me here in the hopes of finding help,” he explained as quickly and simply as possible. And likely leaving out all of the actually important details that would build an explanation as to _why_ he had been landed with such a terrible curse.

Lan Si-Zhui's gentle face was full of sympathy, “You were forced to abandon your home in order not to risk others. That was very brave of you, Potter Ha-Li.”

“Just A-Li is fine. You guys saved our lives back there, I think that earns you first name privileges,” Hari said with a tired smile, making Wei Ying choke on a cackle as Lan Si-Zhui went absolutely _crimson_.

“I – I couldn't – that's very – _intimate_ – you shouldn't refer to someone not your spouse or sibling so familiarly, Potter Hari,” he stutteringly managed to explain, smile becoming rather strained even as his ears, face, and neck continued to burn scarlet. “Even using the 'A-' in front of someone's name is very – it is for people you hold precious.”

Hari just blinked, “It – is?” he asked blankly only for a look of sheer horror to cross his face as he no doubt recalled all the times he actively spoke to someone with whatever name he heard second – Wei Ying had found the reactions of everyone around them so entertaining that he'd never actually enlightened his sweet friendly child that he had been practically propositioning everyone they met. “A-Yu!” he yelped, whipping around at him as he ducked away with a laugh and ran to Lan Wangji. “Don't think hiding behind Hanguang-Jun will protect you!! I'm going to turn your ears into _cacti_ for this!!”

Wei Ying cackled gleefully as Ying-Yi egged him on excitedly, wondering what a cacti was (he too was also curious), and Lan Si-Zhui tried to mediate and stop Hari from jumping off Lil'Apple to make good on his threats.

Lan Wangji watched all this with a small barely there shadow of a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Special thanks to: TykiTavi, Nyaoww, and anon in the comments on the last chapter for helping me with my shitty Chinese lol**. Harry fucking up with Hermione and Fleur was intended, but I did not know about the 'a-' thing, or the difficulty of pronouncing Harry's name since they do have a 'R' sound in the language. Thank you for enlightening me. I'll admit, I did not google this as extensively as I normally would. The writing gremlins demanded action immediately. I'd already included the scene with Si-Zhui telling him that using personal names was for only very close friends, immediate family, and spouses, so thanks for pointing that out so quickly so I could smoothly slide a little more explanation on how Harry's cocking up XDDD 
> 
> I decided to keep him as 'Hari' in the internal monologue purely because it would be a pain and a half to go through all 14 chapters and amend it, also, a lot of people would be confused with the change since I've got a lot of non-MDZS readers here. So, only when spoken is his name going to be Ha-Li.
> 
> And we're going to the Cloud Recesses babies!! I hope you all enjoyed the fight-scenes in this chapter, I've not watched the live-action webseries (The Untamed) because they did my boy Nie MingJue dirty with that facial hair and I refuse to watch in protest lol, however, I'm going to be working with concepts from both the novel and the anime to hopefully make this an entertaining ride for you all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Harry talking about his sad life, reference to Mo Xuanyu's romantic inclinations towards Harry and how it makes him uncomfortable, Lan Wangji having heart-eyes, the beginning of my OC parade, getting high on Qi incense, and some Insinuations and Misunderstandings.
> 
> _Special thanks to the lovely bitches who reviewed the last chapter - I spent far too many hours going through the next 11 chapters amending every damn name in this thing in accordance with your advice. I'm gunna go cry in the corner now lol_

The journey to Cloud Recesses was half a day by sword, on foot however it was two and a half even along the most reasonable of the mountain paths, if one walked day and night. Exhaustion and blood loss saw Hari eventually flagging to the point where Wei Ying was forced to whine some about his feet hurting and hop up upon Lil'Apple along with him, if only to give him something to lean against and some security when he finally closed his eyes properly.

During the day however, he was pained and uncomfortable as the medicine he'd used to prevent his arm from hurting faded away, and the two cute Juniors did their best to try and distract him from such as he refused to take another phial – apparently it was addictive in large quantities, and he was running out anyway. Better to save it for when he needed to sleep or if there was another more considerable injury later.

It was too cute, Wei Ying decided, watching the trio of Juniors chattering as he walked along with the ever silent and composed Lan Wangji.

Hari was incredibly curious about cultivation and their training, not understanding a lot of the technical terms until they were explained to him. It was actually tragic how he had not been raised to a Sect or a Clan, he picked up on the technicalities so swiftly that even Lan Wangji blinked slowly a time or three in surprise. Hari even ended up sat cross-legged on Lil'Apple with a strange book laid on his leg and wrote down some of the things they were telling him in strange looping script that made absolutely no sense when Wei Ying peered over his shoulder.

Thank the little gods for Lan Jingyi, because Wei Ying couldn't think of a way to ask him what it was just in case he had told Mo Xuan-Yu of it in the past. The straightforward boy asked what language it was which Hari cheerfully told him it was his birth language, with a little 'Latin' and 'Greek' sprinkled in.

“You write multiple languages?” Junior Lan Sizhui asked in wide eyed admiration.

Hari nodded, “Mn. English is what I grew up speaking, reading, and writing. I learned a little French when I was in Junior School. When I got to my Secondary School, our.... seal? Array? Cultivation? Language was Latin which is a very old language that English eventually evolved out of. A lot of languages have Latin roots in my corner of the world. However, not all of the.... Cultivation techniques use Latin as a root. I ended up picking up a lot of Greek during the war, and some Norse as well as Scottish Gaelic. I learned Chinese for when I came here, but the language has changed so much from what you use it ended up being useless,” he laughed a little self-depreciatingly, “I can't read it.”

“How many languages do you know?!” Lan Jingyi asked excitedly, “There's a lot of dialects and we know a few but you're speaking of entirely different languages, are you not?”

Hari nodded and began to tick off his fingers, his words coming out not harsh but... cut. Clear and sharp, it was a language that was spoken with teeth and tongue, and strangely his voice was deeper for the speaking of it. The second one was similar but seemed to be shorter, and he spoke with a different tone. All of them were spoken with a different tone actually. And then he spoke something so similar to their tongue that it took all of them a moment to parse the words while Hari laughed.

“I can fluently speak about four languages, semi-fluently another two. But only write in three and a half,” he explained as if it were a common ability, as if _everyone_ could do such an awe-inspiring thing. As if such an education was common and expected. To be taught so many languages and even how to read and write in them, that was an education even the Lanling Jin Sect would have flinched from the cost of. Just what manner of Young Master was Hari to so easily speak of such, carrying such a bag and potions as he, and yet think nothing of getting his hands dirty, mopping up Wei Ying's face of powders and rouge, bathing in rivers, and stripping nude before honourable Sect Disciples.

The two Juniors were good to Hari, keeping him distracted and entertained until exhaustion saw him swaying in place again. It was easy to get himself where he needed to be even as Hari grumbled about being fine, Wei Ying cheerfully shh'ed him and in a fit of childish stubbornness, his son decided he was going to stay awake.

And failed.

Rocked by the steady lumber of Lil'Apple's body, the warmth of Wei Ying's arms around him, secured and in no danger of falling, it was impossible for his sore and still tired body to resist the song of sleep and eventually he turned into the side of Wei Ying's neck and went completely slack and pliant against him. Such a stubborn child, so sweet, he cooed, petting his son's soft hair as they continued to ride in silence.

“The curse,” Lan Wangji finally spoke as they walked, his disciples looking intently at him for his words. Of which there would never be many in Wei Ying's experience. “....Do you know how it is constructed?” he eventually asked when it was clear that Wei Ying wasn't about to fill the silence.

So of course the question he asked was a hard one.

He sighed, petting his child's hair with a frown. No doubt they were wondering if he knew more than he was letting on, the Juniors because he was a practitioner of the Dark Path, Lan Zhan because he knew full well who Mo Xuan-Yu really was. But alas, on the subject of curses he was painfully ignorant. Wei Wuxian had always been _hands on_ in regards to his vengeances, if someone had wronged him so deeply as to move his usual good humour into anger and garner his desire for their death, then he would give them the full face of his _personal_ attention. Anything less would not convey the depth of his displeasure, or so he felt. And while yes, he had _created_ the black flags and the evil compass, they were, the both of them, merely modifications to pre-existing objects and effects. Not to mention, these were items steeped in the creation of their Cultivation society. Hari was an Outlander, and they did things _very_ differently.

He worried his lower lip between his teeth, a habit he knew he had started to pick up from Hari himself when in thought, “No. And he has not shared the circumstances of how he gained it yet. I believe he is embarrassed more than pained by his experiences.” Many things that ought not be were embarrassing for Hari, while many things that should have been were not. Being accused of being a cutsleeve had done nothing more than annoy him for the presumed insult of his personal life being anyone's business. He was a contradiction of both thick-faced and thin-faced over the strangest of things. Getting naked in front of Lan Sect Disciples? No issue. Having a nightmare and crying in your sleep when you had no control of yourself? Better hide and refuse to speak to anyone for at least six hours. A man shaking a club at them and threatening violence? Fight me! A tiny non-cultivating willow thin stray cat in human form! A group of pretty maidens giggling and calling out cute endearments? Surely death was preferable to this attention.

Sad as it was to think, Wei Ying was fairly sure that Hari was afraid of attention, and ashamed of others being concerned for him. It had not escaped him that not a single tear had been shed over his broken arm when it happened, or when Jiang Wan-Yin nearly tore it off.

“Boys his age find much embarrassing when they should not,” Lan Sizhui mused graciously, his gentle face understanding and sympathetic.

Which made Wei Ying wonder.

Just how old _was_ Hari?

* * *

Cloud Recesses was... _so fucking pretty_ , Harry was honestly upset he didn't have a camera so he could show Ron and Hermione how lovely it was. They hadn't even reached the actual estate, just the path _up_ to the place was visually stunning in a way that not even Hollywood movies could depict. Like those glossy travel brochures he used to pick up from the travel agents' for free just so he could look at all the Dursley-free beautiful places around the world he could pick to live in as soon as he was eighteen and able to flee their household.

He tried not to show how weak and shaky he was as he clung to Lil'Apple's back, but he was actually beginning to feel a little light headed with hunger now and didn't know _how_ no one else was. His arm was paining him something awful as well, and he was tired. As soon as he was horizontal he knew he was going to sleep for a solid twelve hours, which would be nice. He hoped that no one would arrange for him to see a cultivator to help him before he woke up and managed to actually cook something, otherwise he was going to be as grumpy as as a Hippogriff with its feathers tweaked and explaining his circumstances in that kind of foul mood was.... not a good idea.

He knew what the others thought. It wasn't that he was _embarrassed_ to tell them of his past and what brought him to the Cultivators society, their little cut off pocket space of China that hadn't developed or been disturbed for several thousand years. It was that he didn't want their pity, or their awe, or their scorn, or whatever it was they would feel when he managed to explain his sorry circumstances to them in full. Xuanyu had cried in full histrionics for days the first time Harry explained it all to him and then completely forgot it afterwards save for one or two rare moments of crystal clear almost _disturbing_ lucidity when he would tell Harry to leave Mo Village and seek aid from one of the larger Sects. But whenever Harry even suggested leaving, with or without Xuanyu, he would scream and cry and fall to pieces, _hurt_ himself, reminding him so _harshly_ of Sirius and Kreacher at their absolute worst that even though he was tired, and fed up, and frustrated, he couldn't leave. Couldn't abandon Xuanyu to his family undefended. There had been no Hogwarts to rescue him, no Dumbledore to hide his mistakes, no Ron or Hermione to prop him up and have his back, nothing. Just relatives even more terrible than the Dursleys. It was no wonder Xuanyu had lost his mind, and a small part of Harry hated to look at him and see himself, what he could have been. So he decided to do for Xuanyu what he had wished someone had done for him in those years he spent sleeping in a cupboard.

But... the last few days... ever since the death of his family and the weird ghost arm, Xuanyu had been.... _off_.

He hadn't cried once, and his tantrums, while loud and dramatic and attention seeking, were playful instead of frightening. As if it were all a big joke and not a legitimate meltdown from stress and upset. He didn't hurt himself even once, or run off to something so clearly dangerous and 'interesting'. It was.... almost as if the confrontation with the arm had jarred something back into place in Xuanyu's mind, reminding him of the training he undertook with his own Cultivation Sect, or it shook off the cloud of fear and insanity he had been hiding behind. The problem was, Harry didn't believe it for a second. Mental health and self-destructive impulses like Xuanyu suffered from couldn't be fixed in a night.

He had been terrified after rejecting him romantically that he could come to the shack and find him with his wrists slit in a puddle of his own blood – he had been _terrified_ , but he couldn't ignore the barman when he demanded Hari work that day. There were supposedly big shot cultivators coming (which Harry now knew to be Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi), and he wanted all hands on deck in case they came in. Of course Harry now knew that the Lan Sect banned the drinking of alcohol so his presence there had been _pointless_. Instead he came back to find Xuanyu sitting in his own blood but surrounded by something that looked like a _ritual_ circle, beaming up at him like a puppy that had found something to be proud of itself for before he was attacked by that shitheel Tong.

He still hadn't had a chance to ask him what exactly that was about. And he was trying not to let his discomfort show, he felt absolutely terrible about his suspicions because – because Xuanyu seemed so much happier now? Healthier? He hadn't hurt himself at all, that was something to be celebrated! And.... Harry really didn't like physical contact but Xuanyu had been starved of any affection that he forced himself to tolerate and even return it throughout the entirety of their friendship and even the _tone_ of that had changed. It was no longer so deeply discomforting, borderline possessive in a way that made his stomach twist unhappily and his mouth go dry with the need to get away even as he sat and forced himself to tolerate it. This felt warm and comfortable and _parental_. It reminded him so acutely of Sirius he almost wanted to cry in those unexpected moments when Xuanyu hugged him or stroked his hair like only Mrs Weasley had ever done in those scant tender moments of his life.

He blinked out of his thoughts as a hand landed on top of his head, the unsmiling Lan Wangji gently patting him as he passed on the stairs up to the Cloud Recesses while Xuanyu wailed and kicked up a fuss down below.

And then there was this guy.

Harry still didn't know what to make of him even after several days of travelling together.

He _seemed_ nice enough, he tolerated Xuanyu's flights of fancy with a lot more patience than Harry did, he took good care of his students, _and_ he had even protected Harry not just once but several times when he didn't _have_ to. But... the way he looked at Xuanyu who had the self-awareness of a potato, made something hot and protective rear up and snarl furiously inside him. His face might have been carved from granite, but Harry was so used to reading micro-expressions on everyone's faces, even faces that were horrifically scarred or inhuman, he could see it plain as day: longing, desire, relief, _awe_. Possession. Regret. Hope.

It made him want to physically put himself between the two because no matter what kind of progress Xuanyu had made mentally he was still in absolutely no state to be able to consent to anything like a relationship, sexual or romantic, or _anything_ like that. And certainly _not_ with someone who held power over them in such a way, this Lan Wangji was the only reason neither of them were being tortured senseless by that Jiang psychopath and so help him fucking god, if he tried to use that as _leverage....._

Harry was going to wrap his entrails around his head like a fucking turban.

Xuanyu continued to wail down the path about the writing on the cliff-face, apparently they were rules, and there was over three thousand of them. That.... was _incredibly_ uh.... it was fucking ridiculous is what it was.

“Let him cry,” Lan Wangji advised them smoothly from up ahead, “When he becomes tired, drag him inside,” he stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Harry bristled automatically, there would be no _dragging_ of Xuanyu _anywhere!_

He slid down from Lil'Apple's back, feeling his knee's buckle as the lack of food or decent sleep kicked in, and he almost dropped, if not for the large hand that caught him. Lan Wangji looking down at him with concern as he gently righted him, taking care not to jar his arm in the process, Harry nodded his thanks and quickly headed to Xuanyu, touching his elbow.

“Do you really not want to be here, A-Yu?” he asked quietly, “We can leave. I won't let them take you if you don't want to go,” he whispered, turning his head carefully so that none of them, not even the Juniors could see his lips, even as he made sure that Xuanyu could see how he touched his pocket. He had plenty of potions stowed on himself, everything from ice, fire, lightning, and mist. Xuanyu just had to say the word and he would gas the entire mountain with a cloud bank so thick they wouldn't even be able to see each other despite holding hands. London Fog at its finest.

“But you need to stay, to fix your curse,” Xuanyu moaned.

“You're my friend,” Harry reminded him. Xuanyu had cried and held him so tightly he left bruises and begged a promise out of Harry that he wouldn't go anywhere without him, that they were friends, and friends stuck together. Knowing how fragile Xuanyu's mind had been at the time, Harry agreed, unable to stomach the idea of shattering him even further.

Xuanyu wailed and flung his arms around him, “YOU'RE SUCH A GOOD SON!!”

He grimaced in pain at the loud theatrical sobs, patting his back awkwardly, “Yes, yes, I'm a good boy. But that isn't an answer, A-Yu,” he sighed. If it were anyone else he would say that they were staying but.... Xuanyu was flighty. He might decide they were better off running. He was smarter than he looked and understood a lot more than he let on. There was no way he'd be able to follow all of the Sect rules, and he was cripplingly terrified of repercussions despite his absolute inability to do as he was told.

“Lan Wangji, can we break the three bowl rule for A-Li? He is too thin!!” Xuanyu called from over his head, petting him and sobbing into his hair.

“Medical exemptions are accepted.”

Looked like they were staying.

Harry leaned over to Lan Sizhui as they began to climb the steps again, “Could you give me a run down of the rules so I don't upset anyone later?” he asked quietly. He got the feeling Xuanyu would just cry if he asked.

The taller teenager blinked at him for a split second before realisation lit his expression, “Ah yes, of course Potter Hali. I apologise, I quite forgot you are unfamiliar with our script,” he admitted with an apologetic bow towards him, cheeks tinting a little pink at his oversight.

Harry waved it off, it wasn't their responsibility to be aware of his short comings.

Cloud Recesses truly was the strange kind of eternally beautiful and elegant that it _had_ to have been manipulated in part by magic, or a lot of people united in a single vision for many, many years. Lan Wangji spoke to the gate-guardians and they were waved in after a stiff, quiet introduction, Harry making sure to bow as he had been taught by Sizhui and Jingyi. He never knew exactly how low to bow so tipped himself a fraction lower than the others since his status here was _technically_ peasantry, and he knew some asian cultures demanded a lower level of kow-towing dependant on social status. England had done the same thing when bowing had been part of social etiquette.

“Zitengshi is this way, Lan Qihua will see to your arm before we sit with Senior Qiren regarding your curse,” Sizhui explained as they followed the paths around the absolutely stunning compound, its many people gracefully gliding here and there in the distance, everything quiet, filled with little more than the soft murmur and sounds of people in the distance, bird song and rustling trees, the far off melody of some kind of string-instrument floating from behind a building in the distance. The whole place felt like a dream, peaceful and serene and so very very strange. Xuanyu however seemed to think they were in a nightmare and was getting twitchier by the minute.

“This place is beautiful,” he couldn't help but say as they passed a lovingly maintained garden of delicate flowers and grasses, moss covered rocks and carefully maintained rock-gardens.

Sizhui went pink and beamed at him, “Thank you. It is heartening to hear. The founder of our Sect built Cloud Recesses as a gift and a home for his Fated Person when they married and became cultivation partners. When he widowed, he returned to his home-temple, and his children remained, continuing to cultivate and teach. This compound has long been a place of quiet reflection, peace, and learning. Many other Sects send their Disciples here to learn under Senior Lan Qiren,” he explained proudly as he looked over his home and recalled its history. Harry could only hum in admiration and a little sadness. He wondered if, without the war, he would have had similar feelings about Hogwarts in the end.... Sadly though, he couldn't look back at his former home without recalling.... everything else first. It was his first home but he didn't think he would ever be able to love it the way he used to, be proud of it and its history the way that Sizhui could be of Cloud Recesses. “What of your home, Young Master Potter?” the Disciple suddenly asked, jarring him from his thoughts on that very subject.

“Huh? Oh! Um... there's... not much standing of it anymore, to be honest,” he admitted sadly. “It was amazing though, not as beautiful as Cloud Recesses, not in the slightest, but it was impressive in its own right. Please wait a moment, I think I have some pictures,” he said as he stopped and swung his bag from his shoulder.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Jingyi asked, coming up behind them having turned off a little while ago to turn Lil'Apple loose in a paddock down a side path.

Harry unzipped the pocket he kept his reference books in, Hermione had packed what must have been half the Room of Requirement, the entirety of Snape's research lab, and whatever she could get her book-stealing little hands on of the Black Library (and the Malfoy Library, though she was never going to confess to seizing her opportunity to loot them while they attacked), so it took a little time to move through the subject dividers that she had insisted on organising his books with to find his 'Personal' tab where his photo-album was.

He hesitated for a moment before handing it to Sizhui. Not that the pictures were moving, there was nothing particularly incriminating there because Hermione had been concerned about how magic would be taken in this little cultivation society and so froze them on his behalf. But... they were not only kind of personal, but he'd included his own Wanted poster, along with Sirius', and a few of Colin and Dennis' more.... experimental snapshots of life at Hogwarts. He wanted to remember his home even while he was half-way around the world, everything about it, even the weird and uncomfortable things – like a picture of George squeezing botuber pus in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room while Ginny tried to grab at Colin and got into the corner of the image, her nostrils and snarl of anger forever immortalised, along with the ink that exploded up the side of her face and hair. He hoped Sizhui wouldn't misunderstand the posters above all else, they were meant as a joke, a reminder of how ridiculous everything had gotten towards the end, a mark of pride at being 'UNDESIRABLE NUMBER ONE', but now he felt uncertain and a little embarrassed as the two Lan Disciples exclaimed over the pictures, having never seen photos in their lives.

“Who is this maiden?!” Jingyi exclaimed pointing to one of the pictures in excited awe, “She is as lovely as the roses in bloom!”

Harry peered over and smiled sadly, “She is, isn't she?” he asked quietly, the taller boy nodding even as Sizhui peered at him, concerned over the tone. “That is my mother, back when she was not much older than us. Her name was Lily, _Lily_ ,” he repeated in English as he stared down at his twenty year old mother, dancing with his father in the snow the night they got engaged on Christmas eve. Sirius said that James liked to joke about how he gave Lily the greatest Christmas Present he possibly could – himself.

Sizhui smiled at him, “You look like her.”

“Hah! That's a first, everyone always says I look like my father but have my mother's eyes,” he said, glancing over to where Lan Wangji and Xuanyu were waiting patiently for them further up the path, the former in soft silence, and the latter with an indulgent grin. He nudged the two Disciples to get them to hurry along, feeling bad about holding everyone up.

Sizhui gently closed the book and returned it, “You do. But you have her smile and her nose as well,” he pointed out.

Jingyi elbowed him with a chuckle, “Better listen, if the artist says as such then it must be true.”

“Artist?” Harry asked, smiling as he collected his bag and they began to follow their elders up the path.

“Lan Jingyi, stop it please,” Sizhui scolded, blushing in embarrassment.

“Hush and let me praise my dage!” Jingyi dismissed with an impatient flip of both his hand and his ponytail before he grinned at Harry, “This one could not stop at just mastering the Six Arts, oh no, he just _had_ to be talented as a painter as well. He has well and truly taken the lead as our First Disciple. You should see his pictures, Potter Hali, they are very beautiful,” he praised effusively as Sizhui covered his face with a hand, blushing up to the tips of his ears.

Harry laughed, “I'd like that.”

“We are here,” Lan Wangji announced calmingly, immediately putting a stop to Jingyi's good-natured teasing of his friend a Sizhui's embarrassment over the praise. “Please lower your voices within the Zitengshi. People here require rest,” he reminded them, waiting for the bows and murmured agreements from the Juniors before he slid the door open.

It was a hospital wing, but larger and more elegant than any Harry had ever seen before in his life. Light and airy, filled with hanging drapes and stylish asymmetrical shelving, the smell of cedar and sandalwood thick in the air, it was a contrast of light and dark with ebony coloured timber and furnishings with white paper walls and gauzy azure blue drapes. There didn't seem to be any patients in the room, though it was hard to tell with the thick sturdy privacy screens instead of railed curtains like Harry was familiar with. An old woman in white and blue greeted them with a respectful bow, her eyes lingering at first of Xuanyu before landing on him and _narrowing_ in a way so reminiscent of Poppy Pomfrey that Harry automatically found himself sidestepping behind Lan Wangji to escape her glower. There was a polite cough from Jingyi to cover his laugh while Xuanyu had no such manners and outright cackled at his misfortune.

Harry would have liked to see _them_ face this lady's glower and not hide behind someone twice their height and thrice their weight for protection. Anyone smaller would probably shrivel in front of that.

Lan Wangji, the traitor, stepped aside and bowed to the woman.

“Senior Lan Qihua, these are Mo Xuanyu and his charge, Potter Hali, an Outlander afflicted with a curse of resentment, they seek shelter and aid,” he explained succinctly. It was the most that Harry had actually heard come out of his mouth so far, which was a bit of a shame because he had a nice voice.

The old woman nodded briskly, “The curse isn't his only ailment. I will tend to him, A-Zhan. Off you go,” Senior Lan Qihua dismissed, short and to the point as with all healers as she beckoned Harry into her clutches with an impatient gesture.

Xuanyu twitched as Lan Wangji began to herd him out, “Ah – no – wait – Lan Zhan! I can't just leave my child with some unknown woman!” he spluttered in outrage as he was crowded out of the room, both Jingyi and Sizhui bowing to both Senior Lan Qihua and to Harry, the latter of the pair muttering a wish for his recovery, smiling kindly.

“Loud noises are prohibited in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji reminded him implacably as the door slid shut behind them.

Leaving Harry with a strange healer who gestured for him to sit on the strange wooden bed? Bench? To one side of her desk. “Set your bag down, child. We will take a look at your Qi first, so that I know what level of healing your body can take before I begin,” the woman explained as she lit some incense.

He swallowed uncertainly but did as he was told, sitting on the bench and trying to hold himself still and up-straight as he had seen the other Lan Sect members do, but the incense was working against him. Like a pavlovian response, he had spent far too much time in Professor Trelawney's stuffy tower classroom bored to tears not to immediately feel slow, and sleepy, as if his mind were swimming as everything went kind of fluffy.

He was instructed to strip his top layer off and that woke him up a little bit as the doctor lady began to examine his arm and his scars, muttering unhappily as she asked after them. He probably should have been a little more careful with his words, but he was swimming in incense and felt distant from himself. The chinese lady swam hazily in front of him, asking him questions that he tried to answer but.... it was all very strange and far away....

She touched his forehead, and everything went black.

* * *

If for no other reason, Lan Qiren went to the Zitengshi for the look of concern that etched its way onto Lan Wangji's usually immovable face the moment one of Senior Lan Qihua's Disciples appeared, requesting their assistance. He, Lan Wangji, and Lan Xichen had been discussing the malice seeped severed arm, how best to suppress it, and Lan Xichen's impending trip to Lanling Jin Sect's Koi Tower when the Disciple arrived, apologising profusely for the interruption.

“Two hours,” Lan Wangji informed them shortly, form tense with the ruthlessly controlled urge to run to the healer's halls. They had, of course, been pre-informed of their two newest guests and the actions both had taken to help and protect their Disciples, Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui. Lan Wangji had spoken surprisingly well of the two guests, indulgent as he was of most mischief makers he was more determined than usual to see the pair taken in, if only for the safety of the youngest he stressed in the missive he sent on ahead to them. Potter Hali, an uncommonly skilled apothecary who sacrificed valuable elixers without hesitation to assist in the defence of their Disciples, and spoke so strongly for the betterment of the villagers at the foot of Dafan Mountain over the glory of a successful night-hunt. Lan Qiren would be lying (something against the Lan Sect rules of conduct) if he said he were not curiously interested in such a righteous child. But to be within the Zitengshi for only two hours and already have Senior Lan Qihua send for them.... did not bode well.

“Have heart, A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen soothed as they strode purposefully to the healing halls, “I cannot think such a resolute young man would fall now. Not with Senior Lan Qihua tending him,” he concluded reasonably.

Lan Qihua greeted them at the door to the Zitengshi, guiding them inside with pale features and hands tightly clenched within her robe sleeves. There was only one occupied bed within the halls, and it was hidden from their view via privacy screens delicately etched with the strongest protection wards and purification rites they possessed. Lan Qiren had known Lan Qihua for many years, since her girlhood in fact. For all that male and female disciples were barred from seeing one another, there had once been talk in the Sect of joining the two of them together, their fortunes were good, their union would be auspicious, and he respected the healer well enough. However, he did not love her, and before the talks could be concluded, she found her Fated Person in another – only to lose him a year after their marriage. A night-hunt awry. They remained friends, often sharing tea and quiet reflection on those few occasions when the sexes would mingle in Cloud Recesses. When his brother went into seclusion, it was to Lan Qihua whom he sought in desperation for how to care for his brother's sons. She was not a second mother to them, but certainly a well respected Senior as evident by the way they both bowed respectfully to her.

She waved them off in her usual curt manner, there was little time for niceties in the halls of healing where every second wasted in a bow could be better spent ensuring another breath was taken. And speaking of such, her own shook as she tucked her hands into her sleeves and looked at his youngest nephew. “What in the Nine Heavens have you brought me, A-Zhan?” she asked plaintively, looking so small and old all of a sudden that all three men panicked. Her breathing hitched in an awful wet herald of tears that Lan Qiren had only heard once in his life, and thoughtlessly, Lan Wangji blurted -

“Excessive emotion is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses,” as if he could somehow prevent her tears by reminding her of such.

Even at thirty five he was still a child.

It worked though. Lan Qihua huffed on a wet laugh, and closed her eyes. She sucked in a long breath along with her dignity and straightened herself up, reforging herself.

“The child you brought me, he should be dead,” she declared without preamble, causing all three men to blink at her in varying degrees of slow confusion. “His Golden Core was not melted or crushed in the manner of the Wen Sect's Crushing Hand, it was torn out of him, violently. His body has been strained to the death with its loss and now seeks to recreate its echo by drawing familiar energy in,” she explained, gesturing to the privacy screens. “He has existed in imbalance. And even more horrifically, some.... _vile_ existence sought to use him as a – ” she struggled to find the words, her usually placid face screwing up with the full force of her anger and disgust, and Lan Qiren had an awful sinking feeling as to what injustices may have occurred. Some unscrupulous men in other Sects had done abominable things generations past, and when those acts came to light often too did that Sect's complete destruction for such things could never be forgiven. “ – from infancy – from _infancy_ he was used as a – ”

“Take your time, Senior Lan Qihua,” Lan Xichen soothed, making a point of sitting himself at the table before her. Very rude, but as the Sect leader it was forgivable to take the lead in this. “All need not be explained this moment. More important than what _was_ , what can be done _now?_ ” he asked as Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji followed his example and sat with the doctor.

She gestured to one of her lurking disciples to make refreshments and maintained her silence for the time being, gathering her thoughts and seeking to arrange them in a way to aid her explanation as the tea pot was brought forth.

Eventually, once they were all served and her Disciples once again scarce and tending to their own duties, she spoke. “You were right to bring the child here, A-Zhan,” she concluded. “His spiritual imbalance and the curse laid upon him serve to turn him into a repository for both Yin and Yuan energy. He naturally draws both into himself, and thus attracts the resentful dead and demons. Any other Sect would kill him and have done with it, see to his respectful burial and call it tragic – unwittingly releasing a Fierce Ghoul the likes of which not even Wei Wuxian could have controlled upon the world,” she concluded with bitter certainty, refusing to hold her blows or her words, even with Lan Wangji before her.

Strangely, his youngest nephew did not so much as flick an eyelid at the reminder of his Lost Fated, remaining as still and placid as the lakes on which they meditated, not a single ripple upon his person.

He narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious.

“Senior Lan Qihua, am I to understand the child is of such character as to become a Fierce Ghoul upon death?” Lan Xichen asked with a mild frown of concern, cup idle in his hand.

She sniffed, “No. The child is biddable enough, even when up to his gills on incense. But you cannot erase the marks of cruelty that have been inflicted upon him, A-Huan. The child has been tortured. Consistently, violently, _intimately_ , throughout his entire life in ways I'm sure you cannot imagine. And while is body is pure, his spirit is not. He has known resentment down to his bones and experienced much. His soul shows signs of having been near torn from him several times, the number of scars upon his person with malice radiating upon them out-number the ones that do not. He is a scarred and scared thing for all that he himself is not. His spirit will be vicious when freed without the proper placating or calming.” She drank her tea in one long pull, unbecomingly, but not against the rules, and poured herself another. “It is not often a person is brought to me in such a state as to move even my stone heart. To heal his body there is not much else beyond food, rest, and medicine, all of which we can provide easily enough. To break his curse however, he will need to find balance. He must begin to learn cultivation again from the ground up, even the smallest seed will be a boon in his current state. Dual Cultivation is another path that can be walked, but finding a maiden strong in Yang energy will be difficult. Such women are often considered improper and would not be permitted to learn cultivation for fear of bringing shame to their families for not being maidenly enough. His greatest hope there would be amongst the Nie Clan, who do not hold with frivolous concerns over gender.”

She looked up to three sets of pink ears and carefully averted eyes, and scoffed at their embarrassment.

The subject of Dual Cultivation may as well have been taboo in the Cloud Recesses despite every thick-headed romantic on the mountain praying and longing for just such good fortune to fall into their laps. Which was all of them, herself included. Perhaps the only Lan on the mountain that could be considered exempt from such desire would be Lan Qiren himself, too scarred from witnessing the fall of his own brother to risk his own heart to such pain.

She sniffed, “In the time being, I will see to his arm, and do what I can to bleed the resentment out of his scarring. He will need Calming and Rest played for him often while I try to sooth the spiritual scars from his being ill-used as a _cultivation tool_ ,” she grit out with icy fury, making Lan Xichen physically recoil, if only slightly. She always found it strange how it was Lan Wangji who was the poorer of the two with people, yet able acknowledge their cruelties and kindnesses with far more ease than the personable Lan Xichen who preferred to naively see the best in all. She hoped that soft heart of his would not be crushed as his father and brother's had.

“Tool, how?” Lan Wangji asked sharply, eyes narrowing. Angry for all that he was unsurprised by the depth of human depravity.Yes, he would have seen much in his night-hunts, he spared no threat from his attention and had witnessed cruelty from the smallest to the greatest to the sickest.

She put her cup down as her hands began to shake with her anger once again. “Someone forced a – piece of their soul into him as an infant. He has carried a piece of the most resentful malice-filled existence I have ever encountered with him for over a decade. And for the last handful of years, whoever that was, has added more. Little bits and pieces of both Yin and Yuan energy, cutting them into him, scarring and tormenting that boy until his personal Yang energy was subsumed entirely by Yin and Yuan. While physically he shows no signs of being disrespected and assures me that what physical contact there was between them had been on battlefields, I imagine it was purely for lack of opportunity that he was not. He shows all the ear-marks of being prepared as a _Well_ ,” she explained stiffly before smiling with far too many teeth, “and fighting it every step of the way.”

Lan Qiren gave her a long hard stare.

While Wei Wuxian had been the first to succeed, to _formalise_ , the exclusive cultivation of Yuan and Yin energy, thus coming to be termed the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, the term was still a misnomer. What the Yiling Patriarch tapped into was far more accurately termed the 'Ghostly' Path rather than the demonic, perhaps even at its simplest it would be termed the Path of Chaos, or Darkness. He did not use the Yin or Yuan energy of _living_ things. _Demonic_ Cultivation was the use of living humans to harvest Yuan and Yin energy. It was the depths of depravity and cruelty and wanton careless bloodlust. That was familiar to them outside of Wei Wuxian's influence. They had met _true_ Cultivators of that nature in their youth. Monsters wearing the faces of humans who gloried in their foul acts. She knew what Qiren was asking before the words even left his mouth.

“You believe he was pursued by a Demonic Cultivator,” he said, ignoring the sudden absolute stillness of his youngest nephew beside him, and the uncertain flick of his eldest's eyes from beneath long lashes, not a single muscle twitching in response to his words.

“Of a most vile kind. Worse even than Wei Wuxian. That one, at least, we cannot ever accuse of wanton cruelty for the sake of it,” she declared dismissively.

No, Lan Qiren was forced to admit angrily to himself, if they could then perhaps Lan Wangji's pure heart could have been spared the pain of losing his Fated Person in such a manner. He hated Wei Wuxian for it. He could not find a single rice grain within his heart to forgive his former pupil, his greatest shame, the bright star that pissed away his opportunities, for taking the precious fragile heart his beloved nephew so earnestly and determinedly presented him, and crushed it between his bloodied hands on the day of his death. If _only_ Wei Wuxian had truly been the monster that the rumours claimed him to be, if only he had been as cruel and malicious and gleeful in his evil as those Demons in Human Guise, perhaps then Lan Wangji could have been spared.

His youngest nephew looked to him, “Will you teach him, Uncle?” he asked plainly.

And Lan Qiren sighed, stroking his beard. It had been some time since he had stepped into the classes of the children, since he himself had looked to the building blocks and foundations of their art. Perhaps.... this would be a good opportunity to explore the foot of the mountain so as to better appreciate the peaks....

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Regarding education:** It is canon that even knowing how to read/write is considered a mark of status and wealth in the MDZS world, as identified in A-Qing who cannot, in Meng Yao and the scorn his mother faced for teaching her son how to do so while she herself was just a lowly prostitute. Knowing how to speak multiple languages in an enclosed world such as the 'Cultivator's World' would be insane, and likely thought of as prohibitively expensive. 
> 
> **The Zitengshi:** A non-canon location but in keeping with the theme of the Cloud Recesses it is called the 'Wisteria Room', and is their primary house of healing on the mens' side. It is run by Head Doctor Lan Qihua, a windowed woman.
> 
>  **Demonic Cultivation vs Ghostly Cultivation:** It is actually canonly stated during the flashback to the lectures in the Cloud Recesses that Fae are formed of living non-human beings (examples include the Maiden of Annual Blossoms and the Tortoise of Slaughter - the Slaughtoise, if you will), Demons are formed from living humans, Ghosts from dead humans (examples include Wen Ning, Fierce Corpses, Ghosts, Water Ghouls, etc), And Monsters are formed from dead _non_ -human beings. Things like the Goddess Statue fall into their own category. At its core, WWX's cultivation uses Yuan Qi, resentful energy, coming from walking corpses. BY definition, this would make it Ghostly Cultivation. However, there is a cultural aspect to the term in that rural areas in china would refer to anything out of the norm as Demonic, whether it were benign or malicious. Extra-sensory perception? You have Demon Eyes, and so on and so forth. WWX founded a path of Ghostly Cultivation however it is also stated that individuals seeking to copy his example went to other steps and sought to harvest resentful energy from living humans, truly creating a path of demonic cultivation. Given that I highly doubt this is a new concept, I'm going to go with the belief that WWX standardised his particular path and made public his findings like the (mad) scientist that he was, the concept of Demonic Cultivation isn't new. But like most death cults, they didn't exactly make it public.
> 
>  **Cultivation Well:** A non-canon concept taken from Taoist beliefs regarding Yin/Yang energy and the mixing of such. I can't remember the entire quote but there was a Philosopher who cautioned about drinking from the 'Well of Woman for it would never run dry' (that's paraphrased just to be clear), given how it is actively mentioned that Dual Cultivation requires sexual intercourse, mixing of energies, and the doing of such would lead to good health, longevity, and spiritual advancement, I'm sure there have been incidents in the cultivation world where someone sought to improve their cultivation through unsavoury sexual practices *SIDE-EYES A CERTAIN JIN*. There is a lot of reference to men being forced to refrain from ejaculation in order to retain their Yang energy - but we can see from Jin Guangshan's activities, that this is not a belief held within the MDZS Cultivation World. (There's whole paragraphs on just how to do orgasm denial which.... I really could have done without reading. Don't ask me how deep down the rabbit hole of Chinese sex manuals I went to accurately write some later chapters, please don't, I'm mildly traumatised enough as it is)


	5. Chapter 5

Harry woke to the sounds of a string instrument, he felt heavy and achy and tired, turning his head to see anything beyond the beautiful ceiling above him was a struggle but when he did, he could see two Disciples, not Sizhui or Jingyi, but a girl in dark brown and gold, and a boy in Lan white and blue. The girl was waving around incense that was making him feel slow and stupid while the boy played something soothing that vibrated strangely through the air on his horizontal harp-guitar thing.

Harry slipped back into sleep as the girl noticed him looking and smiled blurrily at him.

He woke again later to find the old lady who he first met, Lan... Ki-who-ah? Qihua? Next to him gently palpitating his broken arm with a cool tingly handful of what smelt like herbs and salt. His arm didn't hurt at all either as she did so despite the fact it probably really should have.

“Food will be brought out for you when I have finished here,” the woman told him briskly before rinsing her hands and then taking several long needles from the table beside her. Oh. Chinese acupuncture. He'd heard Hermione talking about how it worked to affect the nerves and blood flow via pressure points and – and other things. He wondered if it was even going to work for him given how messed up his nerves were due to the cruciatus curses he'd been under. “And what manner of curse would that be, young man?” the healer demanded shortly, doing _something_ , probably stabbing him with a needle if the strange pinch was any indication.

Did he say that out loud?

“You did. The incense I burn is a mild sedative meant to improve one's spiritual healing. You have been injured so badly your body is attempting to suck as much of it in as possible even though it has no tolerance,” she explained neatly, pinching him again with a needle.

“Oh. That – so I can keep healing while I sleep?” he asked hazily after a moment's thought.

The woman's smile was startled and a little delighted, “You know of the healing arts, Young Master?” she asked.

He nodded slowly, “Had to take care of ourselves. Couldn't always get back to Madam Pomfrey. Hermione might have gotten hurt. We all learned – but I was stronger, I could do more, last longer....” he trailed off almost drunkenly, “Made sure I learned. Brought as many home as I could. Not as many as I should.”

There was another pinch.

“The healer's lament. I know it well,” the old woman stated. “Never the less. Tell me of what curses you have been struck with. I know some of your history, it is written in your bones and flesh. But I need details to treat it properly.”

So he told her. Trying to explain as best he could. You should tell healers everything you could, because he knew from personal experience that trying to treat someone who wouldn't tell you everything they could was dangerous and frustrating. It was kind of rude too.....

That when he was born he was struck with a death curse. That his family stood against an evil man but when his mother fell pregnant they went into hiding only to be betrayed. His mother cast protections upon him so that when the death curse struck him he lived, her life lingered within him as burning protective magic. But a shred of the evil man latched onto him as an anchor, the scar upon his forehead. That for years he lived peacefully if unhappily with his mother's sister before he was eleven and taken to learn. From there the curses were both great and small, childrens' hexes and jinxes, minor spells that snapped and faded within moments. The bones of his arm were removed and regrown, he burned a man to death with his mother's protection and was nearly possessed in return. He faced an evil beast and felt the burn of its poison and was healed by the tears of a phoenix, his battle-brother, his teacher's companion. Faced and fought soul-consuming demons, was struck with curses of pain designed to break the mind, curses designed to steal the mind and suppress the will, to _control_.

It was hard to keep things factual and simple, he complained, her language was so poetic, it was pretty but it made describing things a pain because everything sounded more dramatic than it actually was. Somehow he even managed to tell her about the slow torture of his teacher, Madam Umbridge, forcing him to cut into his own hand until the words and blood made a vow in his flesh and his magic that he couldn't remove. He told her about the Department of Mysteries and how Voldemort attempted to possess him, how his teacher fought and the phoenix protected him. How everything fell to pieces the following year. How he was forced to flee his school with his teacher and a small handful of his sworn siblings to hunt down the severed pieces of the evil man's soul – to tear his anchors free so that when they killed him he would _stay_ dead for good. How he came to learn his teacher intended for him to die so that the anchor that lived in him would be destroyed, how his teacher died in the end trying to save another student from his father's choice to follow the evil man. And at the end of it all, Harry let himself be struck with the death curse again, to unmoor the anchor, to give his friends and family a chance to win. And then he came back, because the fight wasn't yet finished.

His magic drained out of him like water from a bath. So little at first they didn't realise it for several days. But he grew tired so quickly, he struggled so much, they thought it something else at first but... then their healer realised that his magic core was gone. That – he had – not been prepared, but had _accepted_ that. His sister had theorised that because he had been willing to trade his life, had _always_ been willing to trade his life, that whatever heavenly powers there were decided that he did not value it enough in their trade and so took something he valued more than his life – his magic, the magic that brought him into their world and away from his family. He was lucky, he admitted distantly, they could have taken his memories and _then_ where would he have been.

But even though Harry had accepted it, his role in the war put him in danger. Their society was built so heavily around their powers that without them.... it was as if the doors had all been closed in his face. His friends tried, for six months they tried but slowly everything began to drift apart and crumble. And he found himself increasingly unwelcome in a world he had given everything to save. And then the dead made themselves known, in a city of thousands where no one had ever heard of a demon or a fierce ghost or corpse save for in stories told by children to scare one another at night.

It got to the point where there was talk of his becoming evil like the man he slayed only for his 'uselessness' to protect him from the accusations – without magic, he couldn't summon the dead.

But he couldn't remain anywhere near other people either, or he would risk killing them or revealing them to the outside world that didn't know of them. He was arrested, to be imprisoned on a tiny island far away from all, to see no one, bother no one, protected by no one. _Easy pickings_ for those remnants angered by his victory in the war.

His sworn siblings did everything in their power, and eventually discovered tales of cultivation, of the fierce corpses, ghouls, and ghosts, they realise that whatever was wrong with him was something they were likely to be familiar with. Or so they hoped. And thus they gathered what they needed and they rescued him, and left him in their lands while they in turn returned to the promise they made as children in the war – to make their world a better place.

“I don't blame them. It's what we promised,” he slurred hoarsely as he stared up at the ceiling, exhausted. “I – we all assumed this would be a one way trip. Last hope. They hoped, they hoped so much, but I don't think.... anyone expected me to survive it. I wouldn't have survived staying. Not on my own with the dead coming and the Death Eaters looking for me. And there are even more dead here, we knew there would be, we knew...... no one thought I'd survive it. I didn't think I would. But then I found A-Yu and he was just like me but if I never got Hogwarts, if I never had Ron or Hermione, and it hurt watching his family treat him like mine did me but with no one to help him so I did even though I was half his age and probably sticking my nose in where it wasn't wanted but _he was crying_ and no one cared and – oh hello,” he greeted hazily, spotting the two new strangers sat next to him along with Lan Wangji. “I'm sorry, I'm disturbing you. I'll be quiet now.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, damn, that incense was giving him an _awful_ headache.

The kindly eyed man who was definitely Lan Wangji's twin or brother or something close, smiled gently at him, “You need not stay your mouth, Young Master Potter. You have answered many questions we intended to ask. Senior Lan Qihua has already informed us of the effects of the incense upon you. How is your arm?” he asked kindly.

His arm?

He looked down to his freshly bandaged, splinted, and slinged arm on his chest, quite lost, “When did that happen?” he asked.

Wangji's twin smiled in good humour, “Senior Lan Qihua finished around the time you admitted to struggling with how poetic our language was.”

“Well it is,” Harry complained with a quiet huff, “Please take no offence but can we please snuff the incense for a moment? I feel sick and it is making my head swim like a one-legged frog in soup.”

The kindly one looked to the old woman, “Will this interfere with his healing?” he asked.

“No. And it will not take long for him to be clear headed again. In that time he can _eat_. Two bowls, minimum, Young Master,” the woman commanded as Harry struggled to sit upright, Lan Wangji shifting to assist him with large _weirdly_ warm hands. Or was Harry's temperature just too low again? As soon as he was upright, a tray of food was presented to him and Harry could only stare at the ridiculous amount of it and look helplessly at the three men next to him.

Lan Wangji nodded seriously while his brother smiled, “Please eat, Young Master Potter. The rules of manners are forgiven within the Zitengshi.”

He still felt slow and stupid and fluffy headed but he decided to start on those dishes that were familiar to him, the rice to begin with. He ate quickly, not wanting to keep the three waiting, glancing at them from the corner of his eye.

Lan Wangji turned to the older of them, “You will be summoning the arm tomorrow at noon, Uncle?” he asked, turning the three's attention to the subject matter rather than Harry's eating habits. He could have kissed him if it wouldn't have been weird. Harry relaxed some as they spoke, he still ate as quickly as he could, not wanting to be an inconvenience, but he wasn't scared of choking on it now. Everything was... well. It was bitter and green and there was no meat, however, it was plenty filling enough if not quite to his tastes. He wasn't about to turn his nose up at free food, he had known hunger far too intimately throughout his life to be picky about what he ate now unless it was going to actively harm him. And even then he had been known to eat it anyway because the temporary energy and relief it gave out-weighed the stomach pains afterwards.

He listened with half an ear as Lan Wangji's uncle explained about the process they would be using to summon the spirit that the arm belonged to in order to find out whom they were and help them pass on.

“You have been listening attentively, Young Potter Hali, what are your thoughts on the matter?” the old man asked crisply, drawing attention to the youngest there who had long stopped eating, unable to stomach more despite there still being some dishes left on his tray.

Lan Wangji inclined his head, “Potter Hali, this is my brother, Sect Leader Lan Xichen, and our uncle Senior Lan Qiren. He will be teaching you the foundations of Cultivation once Doctor Lan Qihua has released you from the Zitengshi,” he explained calmly, neatly introducing the two strangers to him.

Harry gave them as much of a bow as he could from his bed, “A pleasure to meet you both,” he intoned before straightening up and biting his lip, “I am afraid I cannot speak for your customs. The act of summoning spirits, dead or living, is a crime in my country regardless of intent. However.... You are certain the spirit is connected to the arm? Not a piece of soul severed and placed within it separately?” he asked curiously. The malice he felt from the arm, the magic that lingered on it, reminded him a little of a horcrux in the way it sought to try and steal other people's souls to feed itself. “I have seen soul-shards attempt to rebuild their bodies by consuming the souls of others, and it seemed to be attempting such while attached to the statue of the lady at Dafan Mountain but couldn't manage it. I think it is trapped in that arm.”

Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully, eyeing him with an appraising gaze. It reminded him of Professor McGonagall when he asked her about combat transfiguration and he found himself straightening and meeting his eyes for that reminder alone. He could tell he was going to be a hardass, but also one worth listening to.

“An interesting proposal. One to certainly bare in mind,” he concluded slowly with a brief nod. “The dismemberment of a soul is highly unusual compared to the dismemberment of a body. And yet, so too is the degree of resentment and malice present within this arm. Fury at one's soul being cut apart along with their body.... that may very well explain the cause of such. As well as the power from the soul consumption you mentioned. Well reasoned,” he praised shortly with a nod.

Harry swallowed, unsure of how to react to that so – kinda – bowed, and kept his mouth shut.

Much to Lan Xichen's quiet amusement if the small chuckle and warm smile he gave was any indication, “I see we need not be concerned about the two of you getting along,” he observed easily, smiling fondly at the older man, “Uncle is strict but fair. Many students find his manner intimidating.”

Harry shifted to hide the scars on the back of his right hand, a move that did not go unmissed by the majority even as they pretended not to see it, “As long as he isn't harming the students then we'll be fine. Senior Lan Qiren actually reminds me of my – hm, how to.... My school had many teachers, one responsible for each area of practice. _Professor McGonagall_ was responsible for a very difficult and complex art, she did not tolerate mischief or foolery in her class as it could be dangerous. She was also the one in charge of my dormitory, roughly two hundred students, were under her personal care. She was the second highest authority in our school. She was stern, and exacting. But she cared. She cared very much about her students, and demanded only their best effort. You remind me of her. At least a little,” he admitted a little helplessly.

The old man inclined his head respectfully, “You respect her greatly. I shall endeavour to be worthy of standing in such esteemed company.”

“Welcome to Cloud Recesses, Young Master Potter,” Lan Xichen told him, “I must apologise, I would like to remain and speak with our newest student, but I must begin my preparations for travel. Lan Wangji will be responsible for our domestic affairs in my absence, and Senior Lan Qiren will be in charge of your training during your time here with us. Please do not be shy about seeking assistance from any of us, even myself when I return. The Gusu Lan Sect will always have time for our Juniors and those in need,” he promised as he got to his feet.

Harry nodded quickly, “Thank you Sect Leader Lan Xichen, I will keep your words in mind,” he promised, bowing respectfully to him. “Safe travels.”

His face shifted in mild surprise before he smiled warmly, “Thank you. Study hard, Young Master Potter,” the man told him before bowing to both his uncle and his brother, and heading for the door, exchanging a few quiet words and a bow to Senior Lan Qihua where she was at her desk working with a mortar and pestle, before he left completely.

Lan Qiren continued to stroke his beard thoughtfully, “You have fought in a war, but from your words, I do not think you have any formal training, do you?” he asked with a suspicious frown.

Harry shook his head, “My relatives would not suffer me to defend myself, and.... my combat education is entirely self-taught with our abilities in mind. I have no martial skill beyond how to take hits and keep going,” he admitted without shame, but a hard certainty that spoke of painful experience.

The old man nodded eyes sweeping up and down his body, somehow able to pick out his build through the loose flowing dark blue sleep-robe that Harry had been dressed in while he slept. “The first steps upon the path to cultivating your Golden Core will be to master the martial skills. And while I would have no argument to your learning the Gusu Lan style, I do not think it will suit you in temperament or technique. This will require some consideration. Have you experience with sword-play, Potter Hali?” he asked pointedly.

Harry shook his head, “Only the once. I was twelve, it was an enchanted sword belonging to one of our school founders. I did not keep it, nor was instruction ever offered to me.”

“You did not think to keep it?” Lan Qiren questioned, surprised.

“It was enchanted. It would return to its sealed hidden state when not needed, with or without our wishing. Also, I mean this as respectfully as possible, but with our techniques, I could open or set fire to that door from this bed with only a word. Getting in close with a sword would have been considered.... foolish, and with some of the better duellists, impossible,” he admitted, grimacing as he thought of how quick Bellatrix was with her wand, able to hold off Hermione, Ginny, _and_ Fleur at the same time – right before Mrs Weasley bullrushed and _destroyed_ her.

“And your other skills? Do you read or write? Count?” he asked thoughtfully, gaze distant as he drew up lesson plans in his mind.

“Not in this language, I am afraid,” Harry admitted with a small grimace, “Your dialect is too far removed from the sources I learned from.”

“But you know how to do these things,” Lan Qiren prompted. Harry nodded. “How is your archery and horse-riding?” he asked.

“I have never practised archery or horse-riding.... Um, I have ridden other creatures, but mostly of the.... flying variety,” he admitted with a strained smile. Lan Qiren arched a demanding eyebrow at him and Harry sighed, “Is my bag....” Lan Wangji produced it from his bedside. “Thank you. A moment please, Senior Lan Qiren,” he requested as he went into the reference library and pulled out his Care of Magical Creatures tome, the one with carefully inked pictures. He flipped and marked a few pages, “I have ridden a Hippogriff, this creature here,” he explained, showing them. “My father's sworn brother owned one for a few years, we learned of them in class. There was also.... these winged horses. Our school was the only one with a domesticated herd in the entire united countries. I assure you, they are living creatures, they just.... look like that,” he explained awkwardly as they saw the picture of a carefully drawn thestral. He gave thought to telling them about Fawkes, about the way he and the phoenix would fight together after Dumbledore passed saving Draco Malfoy's life and the Phoenix took to him afterwards. But.... given the worship of the Divine Beasts in China, he wasn't sure he should. And with his mind clear of the incense, he wasn't about to go blabbing about it either. He kept his mouth shut.

Lan Qiren held a hand out, “May I?” he asked.

Harry handed the book over, “If you want me to translate anything, I would be happy to.”

“Perhaps we can make that one of your language lessons, transcribing your collective knowledge for the library,” Lan Qiren mused as he slowly flipped through the many careful anatomical drawings in Harry's text, eyebrow climbing when he found some of the annotations he and Ron had made – and a few of the corrections. He was less impressed with the little doodles and the outright mockery that appeared in the troll section and sent a particularly cutting look in Harry's direction for it.

He quickly looked away, going a little pink. He was thirteen and in his mind Goyle deserved it. He deserved a little mocking more than he deserved what he got at Voldemort's wand-tip.

“And your calligraphy?” Lan Qiren continued.

At this Harry actually grimaced, “Not something we are educated in.”

He sighed, “And what are you educated in?”

The urge to quote Dudley at his worst sat blisteringly hot on the tip of his tongue, the words 'McDonalds, charge they phone, twerk, be bisexual, eat hot chip, and lie' _burned_. But he didn't dare utter them, not even in English. He knew _better_.

“Science, astronomy, language, maths, history, geography, potions, the care of magical creatures, divination, transfiguration, defence against the dark arts, herbology, english literature and language, drama,” he scratched his head and tried to think about what other subjects were covered in junior school. Ignorant to the 'wide' eyes of the two beside him, “We're expected to study at least two languages as well as our own.... charms, religious education....” He didn't even bother adding ICT (Information Computer Technology), because they didn't even have the infrastructure to support it, and neither had Hogwarts so Harry had most _definitely_ forgotten all about it.

“Religious education?” Lan Wangji echoed curiously.

Harry nodded, “Outside the cultivation world, there are over two hundred countries, even more languages, and many of them have their own religions. My home country has a lot of immigrants, and thus a lot of different religions come in and out of the country. We are taught about the major religions of our classmates and neighbours, as well as the religions that used to exist in history past. _Some_ people get to learn etiquette, music, and art but....” he wrinkled his nose unhappily.

“But?” Lan Qiren echoed stiffly.

“My relatives did not allow me to learn or enjoy them,” he admitted unhappily. Junior school music lessons had been fun, they went to the sound-proofed music room beneath the cafeteria, just down from the locked PE cupboard where all the cool balls and equipment were stored, and got to learn an instrument for a month. Dudley had been assigned a bongo drum because he liked to hit things and the teachers naively thought he would enjoy it and get something positive out of the experience. He put his fist through it instead, just to see if he could. Harry had been given a flute. Dudley took it off him and hit the concrete steps so hard it broke the flute – the teacher saw it and the school issued the Dursleys with a bill that Dudley blamed on Harry.

After that point, Harry had a note from his relatives stating that they didn't want him participating in the music lessons because of religious reasons – his late parents wishes. It was out of their hands. Sorry. And there was nothing the teachers could do.

The old man nodded, continuing to stroke his beard before he nodded, “This will be a challenge. I look forward to it. Excuse me, I must begin preparations for your education, Potter Hali. I look forward to seeing you in my lessons. Recover well,” he stated with a polite bow to him that Harry hastened to copy even as he turned away and marched out.

Leaving just him and Lan Wangji in awkward silence.

No, not awkward. Expectant.

Harry looked at him. Taking in the slightly softer than usual expression, and the small troubled creases in the corner of his eyes. He was upset, but it was a distant sort of sadness. Likely he was unhappy at what Harry had been put through. But no matter the man's sympathy or pity towards him – there was something far more important that needed to be said.

“Hanguang-Jun,” he prompted, drawing the man out of his thoughts and sharpening his curiously coloured glass grey-gold eyes onto his face. “I'm grateful to you for bringing me here. Please do not mistake that. But there is something I need to make absolutely abundantly clear. No matter my gratitude, I have seen the way you look at Mo Xuanyu,” he stated, catching the ever so faint widening of his eyes and the way his whole body went still. “If you take advantage of him. If you _hurt_ him. If you do anything he does not whole-heartedly _knowingly_ understand and agree to.... There will not be a body left of yours to be found when I am through with you,” he promised quietly, hands fisting in the sheets, feeling absolutely disgustingly ungrateful but – but – Xuanyu was.... so starved of positive attention, of good regard. It would be only too easy for someone to take advantage of that and it would break him, it would _shatter him_ beyond anything that Harry had done previously. “That's all I wanted to say.”

He flinched as a large warm hand landed on his head, gently smoothing through his hair as he looked up at the man's face, and pausing in confused surprise.

He looked grateful.

“I understand. Please rest well, A-Li,” he intoned slowly, hand still on top of his head.

“I – y-yes...” he said, wide-eyed as Lan Wangji pulled his hand back, bowed, and then left the Zitengshi in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy makes no bones that he's going to rip Lan Zhan's testicles off like a paper fucking towel if he clowns around and you know what? He can respect that. Such a good boy, a filial son. Very good. Yes.


	6. Chapter 6

..............That was not a _normal_ reaction to being threatened with severe bodily harm. And Harry would know. He'd seen a couple of the Weasleys' own variations of the shovel talk (Percy was shockingly the scariest, and he never once threatened death in the process). He didn't know how to react to that kind of reaction.

He also didn't have long to think about it as Lan Qihua showed up with a bottle and spoon of some bitter looking black syrup that smelt like charcoal and something tangy. It was only years of taking potions under Madam Pomfrey that allowed him to take his three spoonfuls without gagging as one of her disciples took away his tray of food. The girl in the dark robes went to relight the incense only to be waved off.

“I have some questions to ask about your people's techniques and curses since you're clear headed enough to give me a good explanation, you slipped a few times into your birth language when I questioned you previously,” the healer explained as she gestured to her white clad disciple to begin writing.

And thus passed a few of the most stressful hours of spell theory Harry could recall in his life. Not even getting in the middle of a Hermione+Ravenclaw debate circle was that intense as he was forced to pull out text books and read passages out for her, and then cross reference them with other texts at her demand.

“You have promise as a healer,” she concluded at the end, once Harry's brain felt like an overly wrung out and abused tea-towel in the hands of an overly enthusiastic house-elf.

He smiled a little awkwardly, “You would be the first to say such, Senior Lan Qihua,” he told her respectfully. “Healer Pomfrey always complained that I was her worst patient.”

“Doctors and healers always do make the worst patients. And young men like to believe that they are far better suited to battlefields,” she added with a significant look and raised eyebrow. “But you know the healer's lament. You are already beginning from a place of wisdom. You would do well, if you decided to pursue the art.”

He smiled a little awkwardly, “Something to think about then.”

He was going to have to think about it, he realised some time later as the disciple in brown lit the incense burner again. He was going to live now, and it was obvious he couldn't be an Auror. So..... all those plans made for him were impossible now, and it wasn't like he was going to die any time soon either. And it didn't seem like his death was going to be any time soon either.... he could go home once he was healed up? Once the curse was broken.... but he escaped from his jail break, and he knew that as a 'squib' there would be no protection for him if he returned. No matter how hard Hermione and Kingsley would fight it, if he returned, a cell in Azkaban would be all that awaited him.

The purebloods would ensure it.

They might not have visibly aligned with Voldemort, but they certainly agreed with his ideals, if not his methods. Harry had angered a lot of them with his actions, with his outspokenness, with aligning himself to Hermione and the Weasleys and Dumbledore and the Order and turning his nose up at them and other respectable pureblood factions and outright sneering at the very idea of the 'Sacred Twenty Eight'.

He blinked slowly at the incense burner.

Fuck that worked fast.

He slept.

And woke to a chill across his bare skin, and a warm damp cloth rubbing across his inner thigh.

Harry jerked awake, rolling away from the person next to him, off the side of the bed into a crouch, “ _Who – what!_ ” he squawked in English, boggling at the girl who couldn't have been much younger than him in brown and gold robes, holding a cloth with a wash basin beside her. “Wh-what do you think you're doing?” he squeaked, feeling himself blush up to the roots of his hair. He was _naked_ and she was – his legs – she had seen him without a single _stitch_!

She laughed, “Calm down Young Master. It was just a wipe down,” she assured him, “You have nothing I have not seen before as a Doctor's Apprentice,” she declared dismissively with a flick of her washcloth.

“I'm sure. And if I were incapable or too ill to clean my body myself I would be grateful for the attention, but a broken arm doesn't mean I can't bathe myself,” he pointed out stiffly, absolutely refusing to move from where he was shielding himself with the bed.

“I am Nie Leebo,” she introduced with a bright smile before patting the bed, “Back up here, Young Master. I wasn't done.”

Oh this was just mortifying.

“Thank you, but I would rather bathe myself,” he explained.

“The scars don't bother me,” she said, “The Nie Clan think quite highly of battle scars,” she explained, as if that would make _any_ sense what so ever to him.

“Good for them. I would still rather wash myself,” he grunted unhappily.

“What is this,” Lan Qihua demanded, appearing from one of the side rooms, frowning severely at the scene that greeted her. Their Outlander guest naked and practically hiding down the side of a bed while one of her Disciples stood over him with a washcloth and an expression of alarm. Her expression darkened considerably, “Disciple Nie, out.”

She quickly bowed, “Yes, Senior Lan Qihua,” she demurred, gathering up the wash basin and quickly fleeing.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, dropping his head onto his bed and then shivering at the cold chill of the door opening and closing. Lan Qihua marched away and then returned with several layers of robes, wash cloths, and a large length of fabric to dry himself with. “The bathing room is over here. The water is cold to promote the refreshment of Qi and aid in cultivation as well as reduce inflammation and improve circulation. Do not spend long in here, you are too thin and your Qi is nothing, it will blue your flesh and exhaust you rather than refresh you,” she warned before turning and leaving him to his own devices.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Bath. Finally. Travelling with Xuanyu had been strangely urgent, his friend didn't particularly want to stop for much and the few times he did wonder off it had never been long enough for Harry to do much more than change his clothes or give himself a quick uncomfortable scrub with a damp cloth. But now? A full proper wash was desperately needed.

He eyed the hygiene offerings sceptically.

That was rice milk.

And sand.

He supposed that the rice milk would be good for smelling nice and softening the skin while the sand exfoliated it and removed impurities but....... Nah. No. He wanted _actual_ soap to wash with.

So to his bag he went. Digging out his own hygiene bag and wash-cloth plus towel to clean up with. It wasn't _quite_ as amazing as that first hot shower after a strenuous Quidditch game, but it was close enough. What did Hermione call it.... an _epiphany_ of _clean?_ Either way, he didn't smell himself anymore, which was the important thing.

Then came the part that was probably going to draw the most attention – long hair was important here, it was a cultural thing showing respect to one's parents, and the loss of it could mean anything from disrespect to them or being a _criminal_. Which explained a lot of people's reactions to him and why the barman that hired him had been cagey and suspicious and judgemental to begin with, and then softer and kinder, almost pitying once he concluded whatever it was he concluded. He must have decided that Harry wasn't a criminal but in fact someone with a bad relationship with his parents, that his short hair was _justified_ or something. Harry didn't want people to think poorly of his parents, he also didn't want them to think he was a criminal so – he rummaged out some of the few cosmetic potions that Ginny had insisted he pack.

The hair lengthening potion was simple enough, its colour was a little.... darker than usual? If he recalled, with this potion that just meant it had been mixed a little too much and was more potent than it would normally be. Typically, one drop would be enough to grow one's hair ten inches. That would be enough to put Harry's hair down to his shoulders. But everyone here had hair _well_ past that point so.... Maybe three drops? He could always cut the excess.....

Two drops, this was slightly more potent than it should be and he didn't want his hair too long. Jingyi's hair was long but it wasn't anywhere near the level of Lan Wangji or Xuanyu who kept his up in a half bun a lot. He wasn't used to long hair or particularly knowledgeable on how to maintain it, better to get the _less_ dramatic option first.

He dribbled the two drops atop his head and rubbed it into his scalp with a grimace. This was going to _itch_ like unholy hell.

And it did. He ended up having to put a cloth between his teeth to keep quiet and press his hands flat on the floor to stop himself from clawing at his scalp or grinding his teeth it was so bad, it was actually _painful_ it itched so much. He could feel his back itching and tickling as well as the hair, blood warm and strangely hot because of it, flowed down his back and brushed his legs as he sat on the floor.

As soon as he thought it was done, he scooted to the tub and ducked his head in, the cold stinging his head furiously but doing away with that furious itch as he dragged his nails across his scalp, furiously scratching. It – it felt like the relief of removing a slightly too tight brand new wig and cap. Even if the resulting sheet of freezing cold wet hair down his back immediately negated any feeling of relief and refreshment he had from the experience. Oh that was unpleasant.

It was then that he realised that the two drops might have only given him twenty inches of length if the potion was at regular strength, but this went down to his thighs, not the middle of his back. He sighed and rummaged in his bag for a pair of scissors.

Scissors.

Scissors.....

Don't tell him that he forgot to pack fucking scissors.....

He pulled out the tiny pair of nail clippers and the sewing scissors that barely had a blade the length of his little finger. He also remembered Fleur's many vicious muttering complaints about people using fabric scissors not for their intended purpose and blunting the blades – he quickly put them away again. No, he would not be cutting his hair with fabric scissors. He didn't want the wroth of angry french women to ride a storm front and attack him from the otherside of the planet. It would be embarrassing.

He quickly combed through the mess as he'd seen Hermione and Ginny do during the war, starting at the bottom and working up in sections, wrung it out again, and then braided it back out of the way before drying and dressing himself.

He felt much more alert and human now that he was finished and stepping out to see Lan Qihua speaking with Sizhui, Jingyi, and Xuanyu.

“AH!” Xuanyu exclaimed, pointing at him, his expression lighting up, “Your hair!” he yelped, bounding forward and grabbing at his braid.

Long hair was surprisingly heavy, especially when wet, and it was going to take some getting used to, Harry nodded as Xuanyu sniffed at it in excitement and explored his scalp like an over curious chimp. “You said that long hair was a mark of respect for one's parents,” he admitted as he shrugged, not fighting him as he tutted over the sloppy job Harry had done with the braid and began to undo it. “We have a prank potion that makes your hair longer, my sworn sister told me to bring it just in case because it can work on some kinds of plants and animals. If you ever want wool ahead of shearing season, I'm your new bestfriend,” he laughed as Xuanyu tied his new braid off and hugged him.

“Such a talented child!” he cooed admiringly. “Lan Zhan said you would be taking lessons from Lan Qiren tomorrow,” he said before grinning over at a lightly pink faced Sizhui and a grinning Jingyi. Harry tried not to read anything into the use of Lan Wangji's personal name, even as his stomach have an unhappy twist and he wondered if he was going to have to make that bucket of acid for real. “Our well mannered Young Masters wanted to go through the Cloud Recesses rules with you so there would be no unpleasant surprise punishments.”

Harry bowed to them, feeling the braid slide over his back, “Thank you very much.”

Sizhui smiled awkwardly, “Senior Lan Qihua insisted on your eating a meal as soon as you finished bathing, it is mid-morning but special permission has been given to the kitchens and something has been made for you.”

Harry opened his mouth to assure them he would be fine until lunch only for Xuanyu to cheer happily, “Good! I'm starving! I missed breakfast too,” he announced casually, taking Harry's bag and slinging it over his shoulder and wrapping his other arm around him, ignoring the strained smile on Sizhui's face and the indignant one on Jingyi's.

“What time _is_ it?” Harry asked warily as they escorted him out of the Zitengshi, he felt both more out of place and less out of place in the white and pale blue robes offered to him, plastered against Xuanyu's darker grey clad form.

“Just after the tenth bell. There is a bell every hour with noon and midnight as the starting point,” Jingyi explained, giving Xuanyu a dirty look.

“The Lan Sect go to sleep at the afternoon's ninth bell, and awaken at the morning's fifth bell, every day, without fail,” Xuanyu complained mournfully. Harry gaped at him in horror.

“Five in the morning?!” he choked.

“ _I know!_ ” Xuanyu lamented in relief, excited to find someone who shared his horror.

“You poor things. That hour of the day ought to be illegal,” Harry stated in dismay, giving the who Lan Sect members sympathetic looks that only served to make Jingyi look offended and Sizhui awkwardly amused and pink cheeked again.

Nothing except Quidditch and the threat of Hermione using all the hot water in the tent had ever dragged Harry out of bed before seven o'clock in the morning. Not even the threat of death because funnily enough not even Voldemort liked getting up at 5am. This was how you knew it was the most evil time of day, not even Voldemort tolerated the hour. Only Oliver Wood did and he was a wholly unnatural force of Quidditch Obsessed nature who may very well either vibrate himself into an alternative dimension where everyone flew and communicated via quaffle puns, or manage to ascend and become the patron deity of Quidditch.

Then there was life in general at Hogwarts, no one went to bed at nine, not even the firsties.

“Well, what time do _you_ usually sleep and rise then?” Jingyi demanded in annoyance.

“Midnight and the ninth bell of the morning,” Xuanyu cheerfully declared.

Harry shrugged, “When I'm allowed to sleep,” he stated bluntly, “And depending on what's going on, and how bad my nightmares are, that's anywhere between two bells to four or eight. I did sleep for eighteen once, but that was after three days without....” He would have liked to say it was because he was fighting in the war and had thus been hard at work strategising and plotting and throwing spells around but.... it had actually been for their OWLs. And much of it had been spent making sure his DA students were good enough to pass.

“Nightmares?” Sizhui asked anxiously.

Harry gave him a wry smile, “What else do people get when they come out the other side of a war? It certainly isn't any sense of _accomplishment_ ,” he dismissed, absently patting Xuanyu when the older man cuddled into him as they walked, which was very awkward, “Careful, A-Yu, you're going to trip us,” he scolded gently.

“When have you fought in a war? You are too young for the SunShot campaign!” Jingyi exclaimed disbelievingly behind them.

Sizhui sighed, “Lan Jingyi ' _Do not make assumptions about others_ ',” he quoted warningly, making the lively boy straighten up in sudden realisation.

“My apologies, Potter Hali, I did not mean to cast doubts upon your words,” he quickly uttered, bowing respectfully.

Harry waved it off, “It's fine. It's understandable. To you, this is your world, the events here are the ones that consume your history and your minds. Our war ended a year ago... give or take a few weeks. I haven't exactly been keeping track of the dates since I arrived,” he admitted a little sheepishly as they reached a rather large and beautiful building full of low tables and gauzy curtains, it was light and open and airy and simple in its elegance, Harry whistled quietly as he looked around, “Everything here is really pretty, makes me a little jealous.” Hogwarts was grand and intimidating, but it wasn't beautiful, or elegant.

In short order food was brought out for both him and Xuanyu, though the latter got some mildly reproving glances as he grinned cheerily at them. Harry got the feeling they didn't approve of his good humour though and frowned a little, feeling defensive as he murmured his thanks to them and then eyed the somewhat changed meal from the previous day.

There was definitely more.

And there was a small dish with several pills.

“Senior Lan Qihua advised you to eat two of the pills before your meal, and the remaining three after,” Sizhui informed him.

Harry nodded absently collecting two of the pills and dry swallowing them before beginning on his rice, idly wondering what it was about his own words that had unsettled him. A year. Twelve or so months since the Battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort had timed his attempt at killing Harry, at completely abolishing the old house system and Ministry of Magic with himself as the Dark Lord of All at the new year. Dates were important after all. He intended to kill the old era and usher in his new one with the start of the year – and thus strengthen his magic and importance of the battle.

Only Harry had completed the cycle before him, he had died, and been reborn on the New Year as well.

The fates fell in his favour.

A year.

“Oh,” he stiffened in realisation.

He was eighteen now.

That was what was bothering him.

His birthday had been some four or five months or so ago and he had _forgotten_ it. Never even celebrated it. Hadn't.... received any word from his friends during it despite receiving bi-monthly deliveries of potion ingredients and letters.

His stomach shrivelled as he set his rice bowl down.

It was the first birthday he had ever had alone since he rejoined the wizarding world – and it was the first one after he lost his magic..... Spent alone as he had before he learned of magic. That was some uncomfortable mirroring/symbolism/something he didn't care to look into.

Xuanyu nudged him, “Eat up. Senior Lan Qihua said two bowls minimum,” he sang quietly, nudging him again and moving his rice closer with a bright sunshine grin. Bright and easy and happy, no trace of the pain or fear or anxiety that usually lingered like a crumpled corner in his expression.

Harry struggled to smile but managed it for Xuanyu, picking his rice up again. People move on as they grow old. And he imagined they would be incredibly busy with the Ministry and likely the uproar of his leaving, they would be suspects number one in his unlawful escape. They would have to hide the fact that they were still in contact with him. They sent him off around late-May so, it was understandable if they were too busy. They had his political capitol so he had no doubt they managed to avoid jail for breaking him out and sending him off – the purebloods wouldn't dare move against the DA not with how public opinion supported them. Coupled with Harry's near mythical status as a martyr, many believing he was as good as dead having given up his magic for them, no one could _publicly_ speak out against him lest they have some uncomfortable accusations thrown their way. And it wasn't like he didn't have _any_ contact, Fawkes still flamed in with care-packages from everyone, letters, potion ingredients, other bits and bobs. They hadn't forgotten _him_ , but they might have forgotten his birthday – which he couldn't blame them for, he had as well. And no one really celebrated them during the war either.

They finished eating, Harry struggling after his second bowl to the point where, in order to save face and prevent any food from being wasted, Xuanyu stole a couple of dishes from his tray, much to the watching Lan Disciples' dismay until Harry just gave up and ate the remaining pills with an apologetic expression.

“You have larger meals than I am used to,” he admitted while Xuanyu greedily scarfed down that he hadn't been able to. “And someone didn't get an awful lot from his family when he should have,” he admitted with a half smile that made both Disciples' expressions do something complicated and unhappy and guilty. They'd probably thought poorly of Xuanyu's actions without thinking twice as to _why_ he might behave like that, funny how a little bit of context can explain and excuse a lot of behaviours.

Their trays were taken and the four of them headed down to the paddock that they'd left Lil'Apple in the previous day, only this time it was teeming with fluffy rabbits as well.

Xuanyu was delighted, vaulting over the little fence and the chicken coop wire that prevented them from disturbing the rest of Cloud Recesses, “So many rabbits! Here, here, let's put them on a stick and start roasting!”

“A-Yu!” Harry scolded as he knelt down amongst them, “They might be someone's pets, you can't do that!” he scolded as the surprisingly tame animals immediately began to cluster around him, nibbling curiously at his robes, the end of his hair, with a few of the braver ones even climbing into his lap. He felt a little bad about getting the borrowed robes dirty, but he could clean them later if it was too much of a problem. And they were clearly pets, because he remembered Xuanyu complaining at a wail of the Gusu Lan Sect's vegetarian habits, and true to form, Harry had not seen any meal with meat on it.

“Killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses! The Wall of Discipline even says it _three_ times!! Your memory is terrible!” Lan Jingyi fumed.

“Loud noise is also prohibited too,” Xuanyu teased as he scooped up one particularly grumpy looking white rabbit who gave him a cold dismissive look, and continued chewing on its mouthful of clover as if he didn't exist. The black clad man was unreasonably delighted by this reaction.

“Hanguang-Jun keeps them,” Lan Sizhui informed them with a small smile as Harry picked up a white and smokey grey patterned rabbit with black ears that attempted to climb into his sling. “He told me once when he was young they were a gift from someone important to him, he had to argue with his brother and Senior Lan Qiren in order to keep them. He said it would be a good manner of teaching himself and any future Disciples diligence and responsibility to take care of an animal.”

Harry laughed in delight, that was a pretty cunning argument to get around pre-established 'no pet' rules.

Xuanyu gaped, stunned silent likely at the thought of Lan Wangji being so sly – but before he could find his words, bells started ringing from the western side of the Cloud Recesses. Hurried and violent.

Immediately the smiles fell from everyone's faces.

“What is that?” Harry asked uncertainly as the rabbits scattered in alarm.

Sizhui and Jingyi didn't reply, they immediately ran. With Xuanyu pausing only long enough for Harry to get to his feet and grab his hand before racing after them. It came from a large watchtower, tall and beautiful, it was strangely at odd with the aesthetics of the rest of the compound looking both menacing and imposing instead of simple and elegant. It also _radiated_ with dark magic to the point that Harry started feeling sick, and with the bell going off overhead, it made him feel worse. Many of the Lan Sect Disciples were clustered around, but no one dared go in without careful consideration. They looked, to Harry's eyes, like nervous doves clucking and milling about without direction or purpose, but drawn to all the noise none the less.

“The Mingshi,” Xuanyu murmured, an arm going around him as he wavered slightly, glaring up at the tower.

“What?” Harry croaked, surprised when he actually got an answer. With the noise of the bell and the anxious Disciples he hadn't thought his friend could even hear him.

“They use it to summon spirits, the walls are made of unique materials and are heavily carved with incantations,” he explained just loudly enough for Harry to hear, “When the bell rings of its own volition.... That means something has gone terribly wrong inside.”

“Then what can we do to help?” he asked plainly, forcing himself to find his feet and gritting his teeth against the nausea. Xuanyu didn't answer, his eyes only narrowed on the tower as he tightened his grip on Harry's bag.

Suddenly, the black door to the Mingshi burst open, a white clothed Disciple stumbling outside and falling on the stairs, the doors snapping shut behind him as though angrily slammed shut. Clan members quickly rushed to help the fallen disciple but he immediately fell again, legs unable to take his weight as he sobbed, “We shouldn't have – shouldn't have summoned – ”

Xuanyu slipped through the crowd to grab at the man's hand, “What being's spirit are you summoning? Who else is inside? Where is Hanguang-Jun?” he asked.

The Disciple was hyperventilating, “Hanguang-Jun told me to run away,” he whimpered, blood spurting from his mouth and nose.

They were too far away for Harry to tell him what was going on, not with half the courtyard hearing, and he wasn't sure if it was information he should be sharing. But Xuanyu's expression went dark in a way Harry had never seen it before, he pushed the injured man into Sizhui's arms before getting to his feet and pulling the rough hewn flute from his waist-sash and heading to the door.

“A-Yu!” he called in horror as he kicked the door and commanded it to open.

It burst open abruptly, as if laughing, and Xuanyu dove in without a backwards glance, the doors slamming shut before any of the watching Disciples could get up the stairs to either join him or stop him.

“Who on Earth was that person?!” a Lan Disciple demanded in shock and anger when he couldn't open the doors. Likely offended that some outsider was able to do so while they, loyal Gusu Lan Sect members, could not.

Sizhui only grit his teeth and hefted the bleeding Disciple up, “Come and help me first. His qiqiao are bleeding.”

“Pull him away from the tower,” Harry suggested, moving to support the man's otherside, “If I'm feeling stick being this close, he's had a large dose, he'll need some cleaner air more than anything,” he advised as Sizhui blinked down at him in surprise. “I heard Senior Lan Qiren discussing this yesterday, There will be four Seniors inside, not including Hanguang-Jun or Xuanyu, I'm not sure how many Disciples were meant to be present. They were going to evoke the spirit of that arm, bring it forward and see what could be done to lay it to rest.” He glanced over his shoulder to the belltower as it continued to ring, feeling the sick queasy feeling in his stomach fade the further away they went, “I'm guessing something went wrong.” He looked at Yingyi, “Please run to the Zitengshi and tell them to get beds ready for the Seniors, and advise Senior Lan Qihua to come here as soon as possible with medicine for....” He examined the man, “an over-exposure to resentful energy and Qi Exhaustion.”

Jingyi nodded, relieved to have some clear instructions and a plan of action, he bowed and quickly began to stride away -

“Jingyi, run! This is no time to worry about manners when lives can be on the line!” Harry called after him with a frown, thankfully he didn't take offence but took it as all the permission he needed to move with all the speed he had, vanishing down the path far faster than he came up it.

“What do you need me to do?” Sizhui asked quietly as they set the Disciple down on the grass and Harry began to strip his outer robe off, folding it and propping the man's head up, he then turned him onto his side, positioning him in a rough approximation of the recovery position.

Harry huffed half a bitter grin, not looking at him as he wiped away the blood oozing from the disciple's mouth and nose, making sure he wasn't about to swallow or bite his tongue off either. “Lemme borrow your power so I can cast a patronus charm?” he suggested sarcastically, “No, there's nothing we can do. I don't know enough about your style of cultivation to do anything for him with potions beyond make it so he doesn't choke on his own blood.” He checked the man's temperature and shook his head, “Give him your over-robe, he's going into shock and needs to stay warm. In the meanwhile, you can organise that lot to get ready to subdue whatever comes out of that tower, and get ready to provide medical aid to whomever needs it.”

Sizhui, wide eyed and strangely both pale and flushed, nodded. Wordlessly he removed his over-robe and Harry tucked it around the bleeding Disciple, checking his pulse as he did so and Sizhui moved off to talk and coordinate with his fellow Disciples.

It didn't take long for Lan Qihua to arrive, on her own, if Harry were betting, he'd say she had given Jingyi some marching orders of his own to either assist her Disciples in setting everything up, or to go and send messages to whomever needed to hear them. Either way, she appeared beside him and began to examine the fallen Disciple's head.

“You sent Lan Jingyi to me saying over exposure to resentful energy. Why?” she asked flatly as she turned from the man to open up her medicine box.

Had he gotten it wrong?

“The dark magic radiating from the watch-tower was making me sick. He just came out from in there and started bleeding from his mouth and nose, I've seen that kind of bleeding happen from magical exhaustion. He calmed as we got further from the building. It was an educated guess,” he admitted.

“It was correct. Acupuncture and elixers will not be enough,” she declared firmly, “I have the Disciples preparing incense. I am afraid we will have to find somewhere else for you to sleep tonight, the process for healing this kind of over-saturation is too intensive for you at this point.”

“Whatever they need. I can manage,” he assured the woman as he moved the Disciple's body and clothing as she needed.

The bell stopped ringing.

* * *

Harry was tired, and he still felt sick to his stomach just being in the same room as that arm. Whatever that incense had been doing to him in the healer's ward had stripped him of whatever tolerance he had for the dark magic it radiated. That or the relatively pure surroundings of the Cloud Recesses had only thrown it into much greater stark reality. It was hard to feel sick or disgusted by sludge when wading through muddy water, but in crystal clear beautiful rivers it would most certainly be unpleasant to deal with.

Then Xuanyu announced his excitement to elope with 'Lan Zhan' in order to find the rest of the severed arm's body.

He sighed quietly, and turned his attention away from his friend and said friend's.... lover? Boyfriend? To focus on assisting Lan Qihua in moving the sickly Seniors and Disciples that had been supporting them in their summoning. He knew he couldn't go with Xuanyu, he was.... he had been given to the care of a healer, and that healer had yet to even willingly let him leave her hospital wing.

“Lan Sizhui,” Hanguang-Jun intoned, “Potter Hali will be in your care while Uncle recovers and attends to Sect matters.”

Xuanyu threw himself ontop of Harry, hugging him, “Ahh! My sweet child, all alone in Cloud Recesses surrounded by such beautiful men and _boring_ people!” he wailed rubbing his cheek against Harry's head. It was a terrible joke and it only served to make him feel worse even as he stiffly patted his back.

“Stay safe, A-Yu,” he requested quietly. “If something happens, tell me. No matter what it is or however embarrassing or upsetting.” His eyes flickered to Hanguang-Jun and narrowed warningly, the tall man's gaze flickering ever so slightly in acknowledgement of their prior conversation as Xuanyu loudly declared that he would make sure he would tell Harry absolutely everything, he would write an epic and read it to him as a bedtime story as all mothers did to their sons so that they would grow up righteous and ambitious.

Harry just hummed, and let himself be hugged, leaning into it and hoping that Xuanyu could tell Harry wished him well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sizhui: What do you need me to do?  
> Harry: The magical equivalent of letting me suck your dick to cast a 'bad juju begone'? Forget it, there's nothing we can do here.  
> Sizhui:
> 
> I bent my brain an awful lot to try and figure out how to get Harry to go with LWJ and WWX, but all of their interactions in the books have them quite _pointedly_ shielding the Juniors from the investigation and the more grizzly aspects of what is going on. The best dads do their best to protect the kids from a situation that is very dangerous. Harry is cursed, has no cultivation, and very breakable bones. They wouldn't let him come with them, and WWX would quietly make sure that LWJ knows not to give him a token because otherwise he'd leave the Cloud Recesses to find him and get eaten by a ghoul. So Harry's going to stick around in Cloud Recesses and make friends with the other Juniors. 8) what adventures will they have???


	7. Chapter 7

With the Seniors receiving incense aid and other treatments in the Zitengshi, Sizhui and Jingyi showed him to the dormitories for visiting disciples, the latter of which then quickly rushing off afterwards to tell Lan Qihua where he was and to collect some robes and bedding from the laundry. The room he was shown to was small, simple, and beautiful. There was a small space with a tub for washing and a privacy screen, there was a bed and a low desk and a large elegant dark wood asymmetrical bookcase that he was sure Hermione would have gone nuts over. There was an incense burner and a beautiful wall-scroll depicting ink painted cranes in a reed pond with hazy mountains in the background.

“Have no fear, Young Master Potter,” Sizhui tried to sooth as Harry set his bag down and began to unpack his various pouches and pockets without a word, “Hanguang-Jun will protect Young Master Mo no matter what.”

He sighed, “That isn't my concern,” he admitted with a glance over at him, “A-Yu is.... doing better than he was, but I worry. No recovery is instant, there will always be good days and bad, especially when it comes to problems of the mind. He is... naïve. And bad with people. He may not understand some of the things that Hanguang-Jun does for him, may take them more seriously than intended, or may not understand them at all.” He didn't want to outright accuse the man but.... Harry didn't know him, and it was clear that Sizhui and Jingyi respected him a great deal. He looked back down at the bruise balm he had taken to keeping in one of his more easily accessible pockets purely because of how often he was forced to use it. “I worry regardless.”

“I understand,” Sizhui said, sitting quietly. “I do not remember much of my early childhood, Hanguang-Jun brought me to Cloud Recesses when I was small. I was very sick. He sponsored my acceptance into the Clan as his personal ward.”

Harry glanced over at him, “So... that makes you his adoptive son?” he asked curiously.

Sizhui smiled fondly, “Yes, I am very lucky. Hanguang-Jun has been very kind to me.”

He smiled a little at him, “I'm glad.”

“What of your family, Young Master Potter?” he asked curiously, smiling brightly, “I know nothing of the Outer World, it must be so very different. Even your clothes and hair seem very strange to us.”

He couldn't help but laugh, “Speak for yourself, Lan Sizhui,” he retorted, throwing a grin over his shoulder at him as he flushed bright pink and looked down in embarrassment, “Your ways seem very strange to me as well!” he laughed as he pulled out some of his clothes and set them to one side before getting annoyed and pulling the sling off so that he could have at least _some_ coordination, even if it would be uncomfortable. He tried to remember what he had already told Sizhui of his family but he honestly couldn't remember, that incense had turned his brain to soup, and he knew he would have an awful lot more of it in future. He was pretty sure he was going to have to sleep with an incense burner going until Lan Qihua was satisfied with his healing.

“I mean no offence, Young Master Potter,” he apologised shyly.

“You can drop the Young Master bit and, I know. Our ways _are_ strange, they're from so many different countries and cultures all rolled into one afterall,” Harry admitted as he sniffed at a t-shirt, trying to ascertain if it was one of the clean ones or dirty ones before deciding to wash it anyway, just in case. “Mmmn, I like both places really. It is very beautiful here, where as home is very.... It is home. There are beautiful places and not so beautiful places. I imagine it would look very ugly to your eyes, impressive, but ugly and harsh,” he admitted with a small chuckle. London was definitely impressive but that didn't call it 'Brutal Architecture' for nothing. Hard lines and stone concrete with glass and steel, and very little greenery save in sad and oft neglected parks that people didn't tend to very often because of the risk of finding substance abuse and broken bottles, or purely because a drunkard of a stoner had gotten it into their head to destroy it for shits and giggles.

“The stone building in your picture was very grand though!” Sizhui told him eagerly, “It looked as though it would stand for many, many years.”

Hogwarts.

Harry knew his smile was probably pained, “Much of Hogwarts was destroyed in the climax of the war last year. I – didn't want to bring any pictures with me of what it looks like now. It is probably being repaired as we speak but..... I will never see it, I don't think.” Harry shoved the thoughts aside, Sizhui was trying to make conversation and Harry was making it difficult, that was rude, “So, those rules. You said you would help me learn them.”

Sizhui's smile was a little disappointed, did he actually _want_ to talk about Hogwarts?

* * *

There were.... a lot of rules....

For the most part, many of them weren't going to be a problem. But others were going to be a _big_ problem.

No alcohol, not a problem. Running being prohibited was – well he imagined that exceptions would be made for emergencies, both Sizhui and Jingyi had bolted like Fluffy was on a tear when they heard the alarm bell go. No fighting, killing livestock, eating more than three bowls (Harry struggled to stomach two so he didn't think he would have any troubles there), no bothering girls, talking behind people's backs, promiscuity – which given how they were founded by a monk who was a family man kind of made sense.

Then there were the rules that might be a problem: No going out at night, no sitting improperly, sleeping in past 5am, no standing incorrectly, smiling foolishly, no getting angry, don't 'be of two minds', do not make assumptions of others, do not form a clique and exclude others, do not laugh for no reason, organise your work (ahaha, he was so going to die), _do not act impulsively_ – his expression must have done something truly interesting because Sizhui actually laughed and had to turn away, covering his mouth with a sleeve as he cackled himself into tears.

Oh. If _only_ he knew.

The taller boy giggled, wiping his eyes, “Truly, I think the one you may struggle most with is not to use vulgar language, you, heh, have quite a vocabulary when angered,” he praised, referring to the absolute tear of foul language that Harry had thrown in the direction of that purple clad cockwomble that whipped him.

He huffed a little in amusement, “It may have been a little low brow, but can the truth ever truly be considered vulgar?” he asked rhetorically, making Sizhui laugh again. “I will do my best not to swear in front of the Seniors, but I'm afraid that is probably the best I can manage at the moment. Continue, let's see how many times I will die while I'm here,” he chuckled, pulling at his braid. It was so unfamiliar the weight of it was starting to get uncomfortable and pull on his skin.

Sizhui continued, receiving more rules about being generous and rejecting evil, there were a few about hygiene in there along with dressing appropriately, respecting your teachers and elders, as well as respecting your Juniors as well which was a bit of a surprise given his prior experiences with Age Hierarchy in this place. There were a few about behaviour as well, such as not sitting when an Elder/Senior was standing, no skipping class, no showing off, being humble and virtuous and diligent.

“No one will expect you to know all of these rules immediately. Any punishment assigned to you will be light with this in mind. Writing lines or copying out certain rules and reflecting on them at most until you have reached a level of good health,” he explained gently with a kind smile that twitched uncomfortably as Harry rubbed his head again, and finally got fed up enough to start unbraiding his hair.

“Writing lines isn't too bad. But I imagine I'd have to do them anyway given how I will need to learn your writing system. This, at least, will be more beneficial than cleaning cauldrons in the potions' lab,” Harry concluded without looking as he finally freed his still slightly damp hair and furiously rubbed at his scalp, moaning in relief. “No one ever tells you how _heavy_ long hair is,” he complained as he pulled it over his shoulder so it wouldn't be sweeping the ground and getting dirty again.

Sizhui was pink and avoiding his eyes, “Y-Yes. I imagine if you are unused to such it probably would be. I would advise you not to wear it completely loose though, such things are.... primarily only when sleeping or with your partner.”

“Really?” the former Gryffindor wondered, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Are horse-tails acceptable? I imagine it would be less uncomfortable than a braid until I'm used to the weight....”

Sizhui nodded, peeking at him briefly and looking away just as quickly. Harry quickly pulled his hair back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“Is there any cultural significance to hair in your country, Potter Hali?” the cultivator asked once he deemed it safe enough to look back at him.

“Yester-year, sure. But these days it comes down to self-expression and who you speak to. Most people would say short hair is for boys and long hair is for girls but there's some religions that don't let you cut your hair so the men have hair just as long as everyone else. My teacher had both hair and beard long enough to tuck into his belt. My other teacher who showed us how to care for animals also had long hair though I think that may have been because nothing could cut it. There was a noble man with very long hair when I was younger, and one of the elder brothers of my sworn brother Ron had long hair too. All of them came from very different walks of life with very different attitudes. My Uncle would not have approved of a single one of them though,” he admitted with a snicker, thinking about the expressions of mutual revulsion on Vernon and Malfoy sr's faces if they ever met. Well, thinking about Malfoy meeting Uncle Vernon was not very funny at all when he gave it some legitimate consideration, because cruciatus and death was likely going to happen and – non-complex feelings of ambivalent not-quite-hate, fear, and disgust aside, Vernon did not deserve the Death Eater Special.

“Was he particularly strict?” Sizhui asked curiously.

Harry shook his head, “No. He was just of poor character.” He looked down a little, no, he couldn't really.... Vernon was an asshole but he was hardly the likes of the Death Eaters, he wasn't like Umbridge or Voldemort, or even as bad as Malfoy Sr despite being cut of very similar cloth. “He worked hard and loved his wife and son, so he wasn't a truly terrible human being, but there is resentment and pain between us and I cannot think well of him. Not really. My cousin though, after many years of being antagonistic to each other seemed to change his mind before I left. I had been looking forward to maybe trying to build something with him but....” Well now this had become depressing again. “I'm sure he's doing well,” he quickly assured Sizhui who was looking upset on his behalf again. God his life really was pitiful. “Um, you said Lan Wangji kept the rabbits as a means of teaching responsibility to the Disciples. Did you raise one also?” he asked curiously.

“Ah, no,” Sizhui admitted with some humour, “As good an idea as it was, Senior Lan Qiren would not allow it to be implemented in the end, though Hanguang-Jun was allowed to keep the rabbits. But the Junior Disciples all help with their care, and there is one in particular I am quite fond of. She is one of the few pure black rabbits there, her legs are slightly brown in colour and she has a white spot upon her chest – she is the fastest runner and highest jumper I have seen. I named her Daiyu,” he detailed enthusiastically.

Daiyu....

“Black Jade?” Harry echoed, smiling, “That's a lovely name. Are rabbits your Clan's symbol then?” he asked.

“Symbol? No. The Gusu Lan's use the Flowing Clouds as our motif. You can tell clan members and their spouses by the clouds upon their headbands,” he explained gesturing to the pale blue designs delicately embroidered with thin silk thread onto his headband. “Do clans use animals in your home country?” he asked curiously.

Harry hummed, “Not for a very, very long time. Some families retain their – family crest? And in the North some have certain patterns in their clothing to display their clans. But it was never something we studied.” It was a bit of a shame thinking about it actually, how little the average brit knew about their own cultural roots with how deeply it had been drowned in things like Hollywood, all the fashions that imported from Europe, the mess of the Tudors and everything there. Very few people knew what their _ancient_ culture was like, things from before the Roman and Saxon occupations brought certain religions in who did their entire damned hardest to erase everything of the Picts, the Celts, and the Painted Peoples. Seamus joked once that England got invaded so often that when they finally snapped and used all the tactics that were used on them, they did it better and meaner, which was how the British Empire got to be so huge. Harry could see the petty humour in it, but he didn't think it was something to be proud of. “Some families claimed closer connections to some creatures than others though, usually unofficially. There was a boy I knew whose family kept pure white peacocks. They were so proud of them that they took the birds with them to out-door events to act as ornamentation.”

Sizhui blinked, wide-eyed, “Are peacocks not noisy birds?”

Harry laughed, “They are. But the event was a large sport tournament and festival rolled into one. No one noticed the noise, and it would have been easy to silence them using magic. No harm done.”

“Did your family have any creatures?” he asked, “What of colours?”

“Well,” he began a little uncertainly, “The women of my mother's family were all named for flowers. My father's family were all – ” Had he explained the house system at Hogwarts? No, no he hadn't. Fuck. “ – I told you of my school yes? It has been around for a thousand years, and possesses four houses within, each espousing certain values, my father's family have been attending it through many generations and largely called House Gryffindor their home. Gryffindor is symbolised by a lion and the colours red and gold, to symbolise bravery and nobility.”

Sizhui went pink again, “Red and gold? And, is a lion not a _cat?_ ” he asked.

Harry nodded, “Yes. Lions are generally considered the King's animal. Red to symbolise bravery, gold for nobility. Those were the qualities that Gryffindor valued. The other houses were Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. My grandmother's family were primarily from House Slytherin, their colours were green and silver, and they were symbolised by a serpent, valuing ambition and cunning. Why? Do they have different meanings in Ch-Cultivation?” he corrected himself, he wasn't sure people of the Cultivation world actually even _knew_ what China was, that was merely the western word for the country that it was copied and removed from.

“Red and gold are wedding colours,” he explained, “And cats are often given to the bride on her wedding day. Serpents are symbols of f-fertility.”

“Huh.... Strange how things are different,” Harry mused as he dug his good hand into his bag and pulled out his photoalbum, “White is considered the colour for weddings back home. See? One of the major religions puts a whole lot of emphasis on purity and virginity which is what white usually symbolises, so the bride is supposed to wear white on the wedding day,” he explained, showing him the picture of his parents wedding day and then Bill and Fleur's.

The Cultivator was staring down at the wedding robes his mother was wearing, she had opted against wearing a traditional muggle wedding dress the way that Fleur had done so – she still looked beautiful in her multiple layers of white, silver, and gold wedding robes. Sirius had mentioned that they were embroidered with unicorn hair and had been the most expensive thing in the entire ceremony, but James had wanted no expense spared in ensuring that there would be more blessings than you could shake a broomstick at on their wedding day. Every little bit of protective magic and good fortune was _essential_.

Harry glanced between the growing look of dismay on his face and his mother's picture before – oh. Right. White robes.

“Ahhh-ahah, don't worry about it A-Zhui, the cut of the Lan robes are very different, I never once confused the two,” he promised, “Your Sect's dignity is safe.”

He chuckled, a little strained, “My thanks.” Several bells sounded, and he nodded, “It is time for sword practice. Would you like to join us? You won't be able to take part, this is the advanced class, but it would be a worth while learning experience,” he said as he gracefully got to his feet. How the hell was everyone around here so fucking graceful, he felt like a clumsy newborn calf, all leg and not knowing what to do with them, by comparison to this lot – what a hit to the self confidence.

“That sounds good, thank you, Lan Sizhui,” he said as he struggled to his feet and bowed as best he could with his broken arm.

Harry quickly set his things to one side and collected his shoes as they left the room.

Every now and again from the corner of his eye he caught sight of Sizhui picking a little at his ropes, pink cheeked, with a complicated look on his face.

Crap. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything? He didn't want the first friend he'd made his own age in this place to feel embarrassed about his home or Sect when he was _justifiably_ very proud of it before hand. Sizhui seemed to be a little more sensitive than most people Harry knew, perhaps it was a mixture of his up-bringing in the Lan Sect where speaking ill of people was prohibited and you weren't supposed to express yourself in certain ways. He wouldn't call them thin-skinned but rather..... _'still waters run deep'_ more like. Some deeper than others, he decided, fighting off a grimace at the thought of Xuanyu going off with Lan Wangji who looked at him like Fang did anyone with food in their hands.

“Um, Lan Sizhui, please don't worry about it,” Harry requested as they reached the practice courtyards, “Different cultures have different standards. The Gusu Lans are well respected and deservedly so. You understand the worth of your Sect's uniform and the values they preach, the opinions of others shouldn't touch on that. My people are half a world away and it's unlikely I'll ever go back home, please don't let it trouble you,” he requested. For all that he got the feeling that Sizhui was only a _little_ younger than him, he also got the impression that he lacked an awful lot of life experience, and that left Harry in the awkward position of feeling a _little_ protective of him when he really had no right to be.

He absolutely should not get protective. The last time he did so, he ended up mothering Xuanyu, and he was pretty sure he was in too deep to escape from that mess. Not that Xuanyu was a mess! He wasn't! He just needed a friend and some support! That was all! But it didn't change the fact that he was very.... tiring.

Sizhui stared at him and then went _crimson_ , opening and closing his mouth at a loss for words.

Harry panicked, “Ah! No! Please don't take offence! I'm sorry!”

Fuck! Why did he keep fucking this up?! He was just trying to be nice!

Jingyi snorted in laughter behind him, bouncing past and slapping Sizhui's shoulder, “He didn't! This guy is so bad when people are genuinely nice to him! His heart goes all _buk buk buk!_ ” he teased brightly, laughing as he nudged his friend.

“Lan Jingyi, it does _not,_ ” Sizhui groaned unhappily, but, at least the red colour receded and he stopped looking so much like he was on the verge of _crying_.

With Jingyi there to smooth the rough edges, the trio were able to go into the training yard where Harry was introduced to the Senior who would be training them. Senior Lan Xiaozhi greeted him kindly enough, quietly praising his diligence in observing senior Juniors at work while on convalescence, and directed him to a small space on the side in the shade where he could watch without getting in anyone's way or disturbing the lesson.

It was – certainly eye opening.

Forget what he said about swords being useless against magic users, he was pretty sure that nine out of ten times if a sword wielding cultivator aimed at a magic user, the wizard would _die_.

The synchronised exercises were beautiful to watch with multiple disciples all doing them at the same time, though.... it was a little hard for _his_ eyes to tell at first given the loose robes and long hair that everyone had but.... there were no girls in this class. At all. Actually thinking about it.... with the exception of Lan Qihua and the girl who bathed him, he hadn't actually seen _any_ women since they got to Cloud Recesses. Well, he knew they weren't banned from Cultivation, the large rule chiselled into the cliff-face telling people not to bother them was quite obvious and prominent so there was no denying that they learned. Maybe students were just separated by gender? Smeltings was an all boys' school, and there was an all girls' secondary school on the other side of Surrey so it wasn't like it was weird. He shouldn't leap to conclusions – cultivation was dangerous, and he _had_ seen female cultivators on that night-hunt thing where the goddess statue was eating souls.

Then came the sparring practice, sword fights, with _live_ blades.

Harry flinched a little at every strike that managed to get past someone's guard and cut flesh. Thankfully that signalled the end of the match so it wasn't like anyone was forced to fight with injuries, but it still made his fingers itch a bit. The DA had practised to the point of bruises at most, there had only ever been one serious injury but thankfully Hannah Abbott had been pre-studying healing and was skilled enough to deal with it, but it reinforced the need for everyone to learn at least a _little_ healing. With the sheer amount of magic that Harry possessed, he got used to being used as a magic battery for the healers after successful engagements.

“He's something in the ring, isn't he?” Jingyi said, jarring Harry out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked to where Jingyi had sat himself beside him, and then the sparring circle where Sizhui was facing off against one of his classmates.

He had to nod, a little stunned to see how quickly and easily Sizhui took control of the fight, he didn't end it though....

“He's the favourite sparring partner during these lessons,” Jingyi explained pointing, “Look at their footwork. And the way he maintains his defence. He's letting Lan Xingba figure out his attack in practice. He's good at this sort of thing.”

Eventually Lan Xingba made a mistake that got him a cut, and the spar ended with another student stepping up to take his place against Sizhui. Jingyi explained about each of the techniques used and how the position of the feet and movement of the wrist were important in sword fighting, but you couldn't forget the angle of your blade, it wasn't a fan or a stick, and had to be wielded with care. Senior Lan Xiaozhi critiqued each disciple once their spar was finished and set them to more exercises which they took up on the otherside of the courtyard, but Harry and Jingyi's attention was firmly on the sparring ring.

“Why do you not fight?” eventually he asked when Sizhui bowed out of the ring to give up space for more of his juniors.

The shorter haired Lan Cultivist patted his sword, “I like sword fighting, but my real talent is archery. You could not pay me to fight Lan Sizhui. He wouldn't go easy on me like the others,” he rejected with a hasty hand motion.

“That is because I trust your ability and your potential, A-Yi,” the taller boy told him loftily with a gentle expression on his face that spelled certain doom. “You should not seek to diminish yourself, A-Yi. You have worked hard to reach your current level of swordsmanship, I am honoured to help you reach new heights.”

That – that was definitely a threat.

Jingyi blanched, clearly understanding it for what it was, and quickly scooted away, “I – that – ”

Sizhui grabbed the front of his robes and hauled him to his feet, still smiling that terrifying deathly smile, “Do not let your studies go to waste, and train your body and your mind,” he said, sounding as if he were quoting something, which was very likely. Harry was pretty sure some of the rules that they had gone through were very similar to that....

Jingyi mumbled something about vinegar and going easy on others, but whatever it was Sizhui's expression, despite maintaining its lovely placid smile, managed to get darker and more threatening.

The short haired cultivator flinched and quickly wheeled around, “Hey! Lan Kongming! Spar with me next!” he yelped loudly.

“Loud noise is prohibited, Lan Jingyi,” Senior Lan Xiaozhi scolded mildly, frowning at his student as he strode hurriedly to his fellows, casting his own eyes to his prize student who was watching him with a deadly smile and shaking his head in mild amusement. If he did not see such, he had no need to interfere with such. Teenagers.

Harry laughed lightly, “You really know how to motivate a guy,” he said as Sizhui took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders, “I don't think I've seen someone run off to practice that quickly since the last time Wood was on the team.”

The cultivator went pink again, clearing his throat as he glanced at him and then away, “Jingyi is more skilled than he gives himself credit for. Hanguang-Jun would not authorise him to leave Cloud Recesses on unsupervised night-hunts otherwise.” Harry grinned at him, and Sizhui turned away slightly, embarrassed. “Are you enjoying the lesson at least, Potter Hali?” he asked.

He nodded, “Yes. Sword fighting has fallen so far out of favour in my home country that we have nothing like this, it was incredible. You are all very skilled. Everyone must have worked very hard to get to this point,” he praised easily, only to pause, “Oh, the rules, right um.... no excessive praise.”

Sizhui's smile was a little sheepish, “I do not think commenting on our work ethic in this manner would count, Potter Hali. They _do_ work hard, and they _are_ skilled. I know many visiting disciples struggle with our rules but they are not so strict as you likely imagine. We are all human,” he pointed out soothingly as he sat in Jingyi's spot next to him, laying his sword across his knees as he did so. “When Senior Lan Qihua clears you, would you like me to take you through some of the beginners classes so you know what to expect?” he offered.

Him? Play with swords? Sounded like a terrible idea.

“Yes please.”

* * *

After sword-practice, everyone sat for meditation a little, with Senior Xiaozhi tutoring Harry in the beginning stages while his students pursued their own. It reminded him an awful lot of Occlumency but the way it was explained was _much_ easier to grasp, with his prior experience using the mind arts with actual _decent_ instruction, he found himself able to clear his mind and sink into himself far more easily than ever before.

“Potter Hali.”

It felt like someone dumped ice in his veins and electrocuted him at the same time as a hand landed on his shoulder and jarred him back into awareness – he yanked at magic he no longer had and _felt_ it in his bones, like going down a flight of stairs and taking one more step than needed, or hitting his funny-bone but throughout his whole body.

He instantly felt sick.

“Potter Hali?!” - “What's wrong?!”

Sizhui and Jingyi.

“I'm fine!” Harry gasped, feeling his stomach lurch unhappily at him, he waved a hand at them as he took a few deep breaths trying to swallow the feeling down, “I'm fine,” he promised much more steadily as he felt someone catch his hand.

“What happened?” Sizhui asked, sounding distressed.

Harry grimaced, “I grabbed at my magic, only it wasn't _there_ and – just a bad reaction. Like hitting a bruise but _everywhere_.” It was a bit worse than hitting a bruise but he would get over it.

He could feel someone wrapping an arm around his back, “Do you need to return to the Zitengshi?” it was Sizhui.

Harry shook his head. No he didn't need to go back to the healer's ward, he would never escape and spend his time drugged up to his fucking eyeballs on incense. “No, no, just give me a moment to breathe, I'll be okay.” The arm didn't move, just began to rub circles on his back, applying pressure here and there and – he could feel his nausea beginning to fade, along with a few others aches and pains. “Are you using pressure points?” he asked weakly even as he smiled.

“A little. I am sorry, this is my fault. I did not think you were so deep in meditation,” Sizhui chastised himself miserably.

“Me either,” he admitted with a small pained laugh, “I much prefer Senior Lan Xiaozhi's teaching method to Senior Snape's. Thank you A-Zhui, I'll be okay now,” he promised, taking a deep breath and patting the cultivator's thigh as he straightened up some and began to get to his feet, feeling like an old man as he fumbled with the unfamiliar robes, his queasy stomach, and having the use of only one arm. He must have made a very ungainly and embarrassing image but not even Jingyi was able to muster a smile at his expense as Sizhui quickly helped him up. “Really, I'll be fine, there's no need to look so upset.”

Jingyi shifted beside them, “Senior Lan Qihua did say his energies were out of balance, if this was the first time you'd ever meditated so well then there's a chance your body attempted to realign and that's why you feel bad. Usually a good meal helps when I feel like that, and it _is_ dinner time. If you still feel bad after you eat, we'll get Disciple Nie Libo to drop by and check you,” he suggested looking at Sizhui for his opinion.

He must have made a very pitiful picture if they were this worried.

He swallowed hard and took a breath, it was just like after a hard raid and they were going through the Order Headquarters afterwards, no injury, no pain, gotta keep moral up. Breathe in confidence, breathe out suffering.

He smiled at Sizhui, patting the cultivator's arm, “I'm feeling much better, Sizhui, I promise.” Not a lie, he was feeling better compared to how he was. “You two have been working hard today, you'd best not miss dinner, and I'm sure Senior Qihua would grind my bones for potions if I dared go against her orders. We should join the others,” he reasoned steadily, radiating as much calm and confidence as he possibly could.

It must have been convincing because despite their obvious concern, both teenagers settled down and gave him some breathing room, even though Sizhui _hovered_ a little, fluttering anxiously and unsure of how to help or if he should be helping. It was weirdly sweet, like having a very large human version of Hedwig at his back, almost. They climbed the stairs up to the dining hall, almost everyone was already inside and they were all stood at their tables waiting for everyone to arrive before sitting. Jingyi quickly lead them to the same area they had eaten earlier that morning which was with all of the other Disciples both Lan and otherwise.

“You are looking pale, Potter Hali, you should sit,” Sizhui fussed quietly.

He flashed the boy an awkward smile, “Sitting before your Seniors is prohibited, I can manage,” he soothed. He actually felt better standing up, and didn't particularly want to sit right now. He'd prefer _lying_ down but didn't think he would be getting that lucky until bed-time at the ninth bell.

“Great, he's just as bad as you,” Jingyi muttered from Sizhui's otherside, sounding distressed, “Hanguang-Jun is going to have my guts for guqin strings at this rate.”

“A-Yi,” Sizhui scolded softly.

“Don't look at me. You do this all the time, A-Zhui. Lying is prohibited but you're always saying you're fine,” he complained fiercely under his breath so as not to disturb the other Disciples or Seniors.

Yep. _That_... sounded familiar.

“Ahhahah, but Lan Jingyi, it's very hard for me to lie. It's a minor curse but, it's one I gave myself willingly,” he interrupted before the argument could get going, flashing the pair the back of his right hand. It was a minor compulsion curse really, Umbridge fucked up when forcing him to write those lines over the simple fact that he spoke the _truth_. If he really _had_ lied and been given this kind of punishment then the consequences would have been a hundred times worse, but he had told the truth, and he had taken the lines and refused to be swayed for speaking the truth. So the effects of the curse were minor enough that if he put his considerable will to it, he _could_ lie. Often times he didn't see the reason though. “I really am much better than I was,” he told them easily, because it was true. And he probably would feel better after eating and getting a solid night's sleep.

Whether he would get that solid night's sleep remained to be seen. Actually, no, he should do, wasn't Disciple Nie going to drop off some of the incense for him to breathe while he slept?

Eventually the Sect Elders arrived and everyone bowed to them before taking their seats and their meals were served in sombre silence, not a single word was spoken nor did a single person move as dishes were brought out and laid on everyone's tables individually. This was..... almost worse than those Church events that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would force him and Dudley to attend when they were small, before Dudley got them thrown out. Neither Sizhui or Jingyi seemed to be uncomfortable with what was going on, nor did any of the other Lan Sect members, there was some uncomfortable shifting from the visiting Disciples but for the most part they remained silent and respectful of their hosts. Once the last person was served the Elders bowed from their seated positions and began to eat – a signal to the rest of the hall to follow suit.

“Speaking while eating is prohibited, Potter Hali, we'll have to talk afterwards,” Sizhui whispered apologetically when Harry turned to ask him what that was.

He nodded and turned back to his food, not wanting to get him in trouble over something as insignificant as speaking. Whomever had served him had done so individually, his dishes were a different colour to his neighbours and even his selection of foods were different, this was definitely Lan Qihua's influence, he could see the pills she had set out for him in the corner of his tray.

He took them and ate, focusing on the greens, roots, and soup over the rice. He probably needed the vitamins and what not from the plants and nuts more than he needed the rice right now, if he had space left over, he would fill up on that. God he would kill for a chicken nugget or packet of crisps right now. So much rice.

He ate quickly as was habit, you never knew when a Death Eater raid was going to hit or your camp was compromised so he and the rest of the DA got good at bolting their food quickly and efficiently, and without the distraction of speaking he was finished with his tray long before the other Disciples. He did have to tolerate a second bowl of rice, as per Lan Qihua's instructions but wasn't able to finish it, having to set it aside in favour of some bitter green tea to help wash it all down as he watched everyone eating around him.

Dinner time in a library would be more lively than this.

God, these people trying to handle a Hogwarts Feast would be entertaining. He had to press his lips together as he thought about it. Or even a post Quidditch party. He wondered if they _ever_ cut loose and went a little wild with their celebrations at all, or if they were this uptight all the time..... he hoped not, he was pretty sure that wasn't healthy, mentally or emotionally. Repression to this degree for the entirety of your life.... that was going to create some messed up people who didn't know how to process their own behaviour and the behaviours of those around them. At least the Juniors had exposure to the other Sects via foreign Disciples, that would probably give them a window of socialisation to understand _some_ interpersonal relationships. But Harry had to wonder.....

There were no women in this room.

Did married couples not get to eat or live together? Did the Gusu Lan Sect even _get_ married?

He glanced over to Sizhui who was finished with his meal and sat patiently waiting for his fellow cultivators to finish, tea in hand. He caught Harry looking at him from the corner of his eye and flashed him a quick pleased smile. Harry smiled back out of reflex before turning his attention back to the rest of the room. He could ask... but he had already tripped on one cultural landmine with Sizhui today. He didn't want to upset him again. God help him if the boy actually _cried_.

Hmm.... Hanguang-Jun said that Lan Qiren was responsible for teaching the visiting Disciples, he was unlikely to be offended by questions Harry would assume (hope). The man might have been a hardass, but like Professor McGonagall, he didn't think the man would take offence at an honest question asked without intending offence.... Harry would just have to preface it carefully.

He could hear the visiting Disciples shifting and whispering behind him, there were a few suppressed snickers that had Sizhui's eyes narrowing slightly even as he refused to look back. Jingyi however had no such control and whipped his head around to glare at them irritably. The whispers immediately went quiet and he huffed quietly, facing front yet again, and wilting almost immediately at the disapproving frown he received from one of the Seniors sat not too far away.

Ah.

He was absolutely doomed, wasn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, had some comments on the names used, I will, hands up, confess to getting the girls' names from various Mommy sites about baby names and occasionally other manhua. The guys names all come from one place which is a list of officer's names in the Three Kingdoms XDD so if there's issue with the dudes that ain't me! But I will admit to the girls names being more of a "Well that meaning is nice. I don't like the name but i suppose it sounds cute?". Shame I can't remember what that meaning was. Oh well. 
> 
> I looked up all the rules mentioned in the Lan Clan. A lot of them are pretty easy to adhere to? There's a few that kind of rub me the wrong way and some that are just downright ???? but I doubt they're strictly enforced the way that other rules are. (Do not laugh for no reason. Somehow I don't think this is strictly inforced with beatings, not the way that fighting would be.)
> 
> As for what happened at the end there - you ever try to throw up on an empty stomach? That awful wrenching feeling? Harry got that in his whole body when he used Accidental Magic - _without any magic_. Don't startle people out of deep meditation kids.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Some very mild sexual harassment, Sizhui's gay panic

Lan Yuan was.... in trouble, and he didn't know what to do with Hanguang-Jun on a night hunt because... this was exactly the opposite of a problem he could approach Senior Lan Qiren with. Most assuredly Senior Lan Qiren would be furious with him for harbouring such feelings, everyone knew how he disapproved of such things! _Especially_ when it came to the Disciples!

Lan Jingyi had already noticed, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the Disciples did, he never did manage to master the famous placid expression of his guardian, and now he was going to _shame_ him because of that.

He should just stay away, leave Young Master Potter Hari's care to Jingyi and Senior Lan Qiren and Senior Lan Qihua until Hanguang-Jun and Young Master Mo returned, but.... _but...._ he stared down at his feet unhappily. He didn't want to. He enjoyed speaking with Potter Hari, spending time with him, just _looking_ at him really. He enjoyed it. And there was precious little to take actual _joy_ in within the Cloud Recesses, and Hanguang-Jun told him that if he should ever find someone that could bring him that, he should pursue them without regret or hesitation.

He just hadn't expected that person to be another _boy_.

Senior Lan Qiren was going to be furious.

“Stop panicking,” Jingyi scolded quietly as they strode through the dormitories to Potter Hari's room, “You know no one here will care if you take up with your Fated Person, but the other clans won't get it so stop fussing before you make it too obvious to misunderstand,” he muttered.

He spluttered, “I... don't think that he... is...” he protested uncertainly. He wasn't a 'By Blood' Lan. He was adopted. It was only by the grace of Hanguang-Jun that he bore the clouds upon his headband. He didn't _know_ who his Fated Person was the moment he laid eyes on them like his clan fellows. Lying was forbidden in the Cloud Recesses but it was what he did all day every day, he lied to the world that he was truly a Lan, he worked hard so that he might be worthy of his name, of his headband, of his regard, and Hanguang-Jun's care. But he _was not a Lan_. And his lack of certainty on this was just another obvious strike against him.

His clan brother punched him in the side, fighting was prohibited but Jingyi had always been boisterous with his affection, his mother had been of the Nie Clan and Lan Yuan had seen her on the few family events. She had dangled Jingyi from his ankles in one hand as a child, absolutely thrilled by how strong her son was growing in the care of her husband's clan while she travelled on night-hunts. Jingyi looked much like his father, but he was certainly his mother's son in personality. Even the way Jingyi showed his brusque affection was the same, he concluded, rubbing his side with a frown in his direction.

Jingyi pointed at his own head, “Did that statue hit you in the head while I wasn't paying attention? Is your brain missing?” he demanded remorselessly, “So you didn't know at first glance. But you definitely knew by the time we got here. Even Hanguang-Jun could see, otherwise he wouldn't have told you to take care of him.”

Lan Yuan felt as though his face had been flayed for how little skin he had left as he dropped his head into both of his hands, feeling Jingyi pat his shoulder 'consolingly'. Hanguang-Jun had made that request of him in front of Senior Lan Qiren and Young Master Mo! _They knew!_ The only people who didn't understand were Young Master Mo and Potter Hari himself!

“You were pretty obvious, A-Zhui,” his traitorous friend told him knowingly, patting his back again.

“What do I do?” he moaned into his hands.

Jingyi got behind him and pushed him forward, “Make him smile, idiot. You're good at that. Be nice, take care of him, and when you're an adult, take him home,” he declared as if it were the simplest and most obvious thing in the world.

“A-Yi! H-he isn't a _maiden_ I can just negotiate a marriage with,” he protested, “Who would I even speak to?”

“Kuh, that's obvious. Young Master Mo has been crowing about his son this whole time, I'm sure he'd be willing to negotiate a wedding with Hanguang-Jun,” Jingyi dismissed as he continued to push and shove Lan Yuan to Hari's dormitory door, “Now, shush,” he commanded before reaching past him to knock on said door.

There was no answer.

Lan Yuan smiled a little in amusement, “He did say this is an hour of the day that should be prohibited,” he mused.

“Yes, but he needs to eat, Senior Lan Qihua's orders! Also, you want to spend time with him,” Jingyi declared as he slipped past him and opened up the door in a single movement. It looked like Potter Hari had at least made himself at home since they left dinner last night and he begged off evening reading in order to settle in, a few pairs of shoes were lined up beside his bedroom door, two cloaks hung from a wall bracket, and the shelves were already filled with books and boxes, the low table also had several stacks of well worn leather and paper-volumes, as well as a number of tools that he had seen in an apothecary, which made sense given that Potter Hari was apparently a skilled one. And there, on the bed, he was curled up into a small tight ball under three blankets in the quiet dawn, unfamiliarly long hair tangled around him, slipping off the bed to puddle like black silk across the flooring.

Jingyi marched across the room to go and wake him. Disturbing the faint lingering scent of incense and reminding Lan Yuan of something else that Senior Lan Qihua told them, he shot across the room, catching his friend's wrist before he could touch A-Hari's shoulder.

“Did Senior Lan Qihua not tell us to let him sleep?” he asked suspiciously, “I have this memory but I am not sure.” His memory had always been poor, he worked harder than all of the other disciples to make up for this short-coming, and thankfully it had greatly improved with the formation of his Golden Core, but there was not a soul amongst his own age group who did not remember how difficult his formative years were. The healers blamed it upon the fever that stole his memories before Cloud Recesses, saying that when the mind had something like that damaged then it was something that would echo throughout his life.

Jingyi paused to give it the thought it deserved before nodding, “She did. Come, we'll tell the kitchens that he is still resting. We should light another incense for him before we go,” he concluded, pulling his hand back as Potter Hari slept on.

Lan Yuan glanced down at him, much of his face was hidden, and he had much of his bedding drawn up into his arms, giving him something solid to hold in his arms. As if he were used to holding another _person_. He swallowed the sudden sour taste in his mouth and pushed the thought away, Potter Hari was a child younger than him. War or not, he did say that his country had religions that placed importance on purity? Potter Hari did not strike him as the kind of person who would be dishonest with a woman, or anyone.

He quickly pulled away before he made any move to embarrass himself by touching him while he slept, both he and Jingyi lighting the provided Qi incense provided by Senior Lan Qihua before leaving the room.

The two of them headed to breakfast, having a quiet word with the serving staff about Hari still being abed under Senior Qihua's instruction and his medicine was set aside for later and they promised they would have something for him no matter when he awoke. They ate their food and left for morning classes and reading. Lan Yuan was not proud to admit he was a little distracted during both, as much as he tried not to be. While Senior Lan Xiaozhi had Lan Kongming recited from a book of poetry and philosophy for them, his mind wondered just a little to more pleasant thoughts – specifically Hari.

He was... so very different to _everyone_ he had ever met, both in the Gusu Lan Sect and of the visiting Disciples. There was something about him that was very reassuring, almost like Hanguang-Jun but softer and warmer, Lan Yuan wondered if it was just the fact that he had seen him fuss after Young Master Mo so tenderly in one moment and then fearlessly go toe to toe against a soul sucking Goddess Statue empowered by the Evil Arm despite being hurt and the most vulnerable of all of them. He had not shied away from anyone even once, and it was clear that he would not, no matter the circumstances or whom he felt was responsible for the wrong doing. He had been small and light in Lan Yuan's arms, bird-like, and yet despite this, despite his broken arm, he had tried to protect them from the Goddess. He had thrown aside his personal feelings in favour of dealing with the threat and helping the villagers at the foot of Dafan Mountain.

He stood and recited the passage he had been assigned, it was a nice passage, speaking of mountains peaked in snow, the jade coloured bamboo, and the bright pink blossoms of approaching spring.

He wondered if Potter Hari knew anything of poetry, or if this was another area where their cultures differed. He himself was not particularly good at poetry, he preferred to paint, but when he thought of the passage he had recited, and the way golden firelight reflected off Potter Hari's jade green eyes, his short hair floating around his gold tinted face, dark eyebrows lowered, pink lips set down in grim determination. When he thought of bird-like pale hands gently cleaning powder and rouge from Senior Mo's face with such tender care, smoothing through and across dark hair and pale skin like a breath of gentle summer wind. Laughing atop a donkey in the bright afternoon sunlight, jade eyes bright and sparkling. Stepping out from the Zitengshi in Lan robes, ink-black silken hair braided back and sliding over his shoulders, the snow colour of their robes only bringing out the pink of his lips and cheeks, the green of his eyes – so like the jade coloured bamboo of the poem. When he thought of Potter Hari sat opposite him, smiling and showing him pictures of his family and home, wavy ink black hair spilling down his shoulders into his lap. He thought he could. No, he knew he could. He could write poetry, pages upon pages of it, only so easily. But absolutely none of it would be fit for the eyes of another.

Well.... Maybe he could show Hanguang-Jun.... he approved of Potter Hari, that much Lan Yuan could tell. He patted Potter Hari's head and smiled gently at him. Hanguang-Jun didn't tend to take to people so quickly, he was never sure how to speak or interact with them, or they him. Lan Yuan had spent many years figuring him out, reading him as well as Uncle Xichen was still impossible though, yet he knew he came a close third, with Senior Lan Qiren as second. And yet Potter Hari understood him as well, whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen Lan Yuan thought as he recalled the expression on Potter Hari's face as they saw Hanguang-Jun and Young Master Mo off at the gate. The glare and pointed expression on Potter Hari's face when he told Hanguang-Jun to take care, the look of gentle amusement in his guardian's face before he turned to wish Lan Yuan his own goodbyes. He was obviously a filial son, loving both of his parents, and his self-proclaimed father, Young Master Mo – the first thing he had done upon learning of their hair customs was grow his own out. And it looked very fine on him, even if he was unsure of how to deal with it half the time.

He wondered if he would ask for help with it eventually, and felt his face warm at the thought both in a little excitement and in embarrassment and shame. He would need to reflect on his impure thoughts. He should not take advantage of Potter Hari's innocence regarding their customs, it was not proper and Hanguang-Jun would be disappointed in him, and if Potter Hari ever found out.... his trust would be broken.

If his trust was broken, he would leave.

There was nothing tying him here to the Gusu Lan, the only reason he was still with them was because of Young Master Mo – no matter how much he lowered his voice, they were cultivators with solid and developed Golden Cores who had opened all of their qiqiao. They heard his words outside the gate as clear as day, willingly throwing aside his chance for aid against his curse purely for the comfort of his friend, preparing to _fight_ them for it even. Jingyi had been almost insulted until Lan Yuan pointed out that it was a rejection based on loyalty to his friend. And now with Young Master Mo gone, assisting Hanguang-Jun while he remained behind in recovery, Lan Yuan worried if Potter Hari felt as if he were a bird now in a cage.....

“Aiyah, come on, Cloud for Brains,” Jingyi proclaimed, giving his shoulder a bump, “Class ended three minutes ago, wake up.”

Lan Yuan went red, realising he had been lost in decidedly inappropriate and irrelevant thoughts for over half of their morning lessons and quickly began to pack his belongings away. Jingyi said nothing, only shaking his head slightly in exasperation and holding his satchel open so that he could gather his belongings quicker.

“Come on, let's go see if Potter Hali is awake before you float off above the mountain,” his friend declared, setting Lan Yuan's face to burning yet again.

“A-Yi...”

“I'm not the one who spent most of morning lessons staring down at his poetry book with his brain full of fluff,” his friend retorted remorselessly. Lan Yuan glanced uncertainly to their classmates but none of the visiting Disciples had noticed his absent mindedness, not even Ouyang Zizhen who was a close friend of both of them had lingered. So he could at least be assured that only Jingyi had noticed his egregious lapse in self-control.

It was not long past the tenth bell, surely Potter Hari would be awake by now.

The dormitories were louder than either of them were particularly comfortable with as they headed down the corridor, listening to their livelier classmates cutting loose now that they were no longer under the stern gaze of the Seniors. It was most certainly loud enough to have woken Potter Hari, and Lan Yuan felt a little irrationally annoyed by this – he was unwell, they should be more considerate of his state and let him rest undisturbed.

Ah, but then, he told himself, they did not know of Potter Hari's state, nor that of the Sect Seniors who were currently recovering within the Zitengshi – if it were not for the failed summoning, then it was more than likely that Potter Hari would have remained within the healing halls for several more days.

They knocked and heard a faint voice inside asking them to wait, so he was at least awake. A few moments later, the door cracked open and Lan Yuan felt himself go red when he realised that Potter Hari's hair was not only down but also wet, and he wore only a thin white robe.

“Ah, A-Zhui and A-Yi. Give me a few minutes to finish up and get dressed, I'll be out quickly,” he promised before sliding the door closed again, leaving Lan Yuan to swallow against his suddenly dry throat and look down, wide eyed, at the realisation that Potter Hari was _naked_ and _bathing_ only a few steps away.

Jingyi _sighed_ as though the sound were pulled up from the depths of his belly.

As promised though, they didn't have to wait long. Potter Hari appeared a few minutes later, wearing unfamiliar black robes, in the process of puling his long dark hair back with a loop of black material. The robes were loose, and strangely cut, trimmed with – red and gold. A shield upon A-Hari's chest displaying a golden feline raised up upon its hindlegs, on a background of red and gold. The robes had considerably fewer layers than the white robes of the Lan Sect, but the material was thicker and even more finely made without any sign of uneven spinning or stitching.

He finished tying his hair and returned his broken arm to its sling with a minor grimace, just looking at his left hand, Lan Yuan could see it was slightly red and puffy.

“I jarred it a little while I was sleeping, and again while bathing, it'll be fine,” Potter Hari promised, catching sight of where he was looking and quickly trying to reassure him. He wanted to accuse him of lying, and remind him that it was forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but he now knew that Potter Hari was not capable of such.

“Kitchen set aside your meal so once you're done eating we can go for your check up at the Zitengshi,” Jingyi concluded as they headed to the main hall, “Also, what are you wearing?” he asked tugging at the red and gold trim on his robes.

Hari smiled a little awkwardly, “My old robes from school. I felt bad about getting the other set dirty yesterday so I thought I'd just stick with these. They're enchanted to repel most dirt and substances so they're at least easier to clean, plus they won't go see through when they're wet,” he added with a brief tug on his mane of wet hair that had Lan Yuan going pink again and Jingyi nodding sagely.

“So your clan colours are black, red, and gold?” he asked curiously.

Hari shook his head, “My school was split into four houses, each house had two colours and an animal to represent them, and they only took students who held certain values. Gryffindor valued bravery and nobility, and were represented by red and gold, and a lion as their animal,” he explained, pointing to his chest and the shield upon it, “Ravenclaw valued intelligence and wit, her colours were blue and bronze, and her students were represented by an eagle. Hufflepuff valued loyalty and hard work, but her house would accept everyone if the other houses didn't wish to take them, she viewed the school as a home and a haven and thought everyone should have an education. Her colours were yellow and black, and her house was represented by a badger, a kind of little bear from my home country. Slytherin is the last house, they valued cunning and ambition, but over the years the house became obsessed with purity of blood, to the point where it was dangerous for children of certain backgrounds to go there. Their colours were green and silver, and they were represented with a serpent.”

Jingyi nodded, “Sounds interesting. So, you're brave and noble?” he asked, peering up at Hari who smiled a little crookedly.

“I try to be. But that's not all you are, a lot of people fall into the trap of thinking that your house is all you are. My sworn sister A-Hermione was with us in Gryffindor,” he explained ignoring the blinks of surprise and confusion from the boys (Lan Yuan made a mental note to gently correct him in regards to the name, it should have been A-Ni), “and she was by far the most intelligent person in our entire year group. She most definitely had the smarts for Ravenclaw, and the loyalty and work-ethic for Hufflepuff, even the ambition and cunning for Slytherin. But she was so brave as well, and she very much admired our school master, who was a Gryffindor as a student himself. She came from common birth and yet she was top of all our classes, they hadn't found something that she _couldn't_ do, and they definitely tried in some classes. She infuriated the purebloods, tiny little slip of a _mudblood_ showing up their heirs who had been educated in our ways since they could walk and here she comes, having only learned of them last week, and already throwing spells around with more precision than their sons.” He was never going to not find the seething hissing spitting rant Draco Malfoy threw at them about how _hated_ Hermione was in Slytherin, how many teenagers got it in the neck from their parents because she was better than them. It bred a lot of resentment, and was exactly the reason why she should be kept from the battlefield – Hermione begged to differ, and punched his nose out of alignment again.

Jingyi grinned, “She sounds amazing. But, your teachers didn't separate you in classes? Was no one inappropriate to the girls?” he asked anxiously as they entered into the dining hall and took their seats. A pot of tea was quickly brought out for them to drink while they waited, there were a few others present, Seniors who were returning from long and difficult travels or night-hunts, the ill and injured. Lan Yuan could see Senior Lan Qiren already recovered enough to stubbornly take his leave the Zitengshi – he wondered when Senior Lan Qihua would drag him back, or if he was only released for the day.

Harry snorted, “If they were, they regretted it very quickly. I can honestly say I have never heard of any girls being forced into something against their will.” He grimaced, recalling the Romilda Vane incident, “Actually, we were more at risk than the girls. There are potions that can.... well, turn you into a love-sick idiot. A girl tried to slip me one when I was younger but my friend ate it instead and – thankfully nothing happened. I was able to reverse the potion before he even _saw_ her.”

Lan Yuan felt like there was a waterfall in his ears, “She.... tried to use drugs on you?” he asked distantly. One of their lectures had spoken extensively about watchfulness and care when invited to dine and speak with nobility or brothel madams. Alcohol and other such mind altering substances were identified and warned against, and this was sounding like one of the worst ones, the ones that they were warned of most stringently – a young attractive cultivator, male or female, may find themselves slipped this drug and used for an evening if they were a particularly careless Disciple. And because of the effects of the drug, the Disciple's memories were often.... unreliable.

“I doubt she meant any harm,” he dismissed as if this were _nothing to be concerned over_. “Lucky for us it was harmless, it made us more vigilante for when someone _did_ start sending poisons to us.”

Lan Yuan's tea cup shattered in his hand, the sudden burst of warmth and the sound jarring him out of the building anger roaring in his ears.

“Ah! Are you alright? Let me see,” Potter Hari yelped, shifting immediately and reaching for his tea covered hand in alarm. Oh no, he could feel his face beginning to flush as the shards of his broken cup were set on the table. He could _hear_ Jingyi trying to hide his laughter in his drink and he could see the disapproving looks (some highly amused ones as well) from the Seniors as Potter Hari fussed over his hand and then stopped in confusion. “....What the hell are you people made of?” he asked in abject confusion, turning Lan Yuan's hand over in bewilderment. Seeking either a wound or a scald but finding nothing.

He swallowed, “Our Golden Cores give us protection from such minor injuries,” he explained softly, smiling gently at him, “Your concern is much appreciated though,” he promised. More appreciated than was appropriate, he knew, he wanted to lace their fingers together and cradle that soft, cool, hand between his. But he did not. He controlled himself as Potter Hari sat back, letting him go.

“Well that would have definitely been convenient in the war,” he complained before shrugging a shoulder and huffing on a wry laugh, “Oh well.” And he dismissed it entirely.

“Hey, Potter Hari, I've been wondering,” Jingyi interrupted, leaning around Lan Yuan to look at him, “How old are you?”

“A-Yi!” Lan Yuan scolded, that was incredibly rude! You didn't just _ask_ -

“Eighteen, why?” Hari answered without hesitation or batting an eyelid.

Both he and Jingyi spluttered, staring at him, “You're _older than us?!_ ” they chorused in disbelief.

But – but he was so _tiny_ , and _cute!_

Hari eyed them, his expression going flat, “How old.... did you think I was?” he asked slowly.

Saved by the kitchen staff! Lan Yuan cleared his throat as they appeared with Potter Hari's tray and his medicine, and a new cup for him. “Speaking while eating is prohibited,” he reminded him as he poured himself a fresh drink. If the foreigner had cat ears and a tail they would be folded back and lashing with displeasure, but he only hummed and turned to take his medicine and start eating. Jingyi shot him a distressed look and it was all he could do to shake his head, equally disturbed. Did Outlanders age more slowly? They had thought Potter Hari no older than Jin Ling for how he appeared despite his maturity being considerably beyond such, but to learn he was a year or so older than Lan Yuan himself....

Eighteen, he realised with some relief, that meant he would only have to wait three years, not five to marr- he choked on his tea, swallowing it the wrong way and coughing, quickly setting his cup down and covering his mouth. No, no, absolutely not, do _not_ follow that thought. _Senior Lan Qiren was on the otherside of the room!!_

Jingyi patted his back as he got his breathing under control, sighing and shaking his head as he did so.

“If you were hoping Senior Lan Qiren didn't know, I think you can forget such hopes now. You are painfully obvious,” his friend muttered in an undertone, too quiet even for the cultivators in the room to hear, and Lan Yuan wanted the floor to swallow him as he closed his eyes and refused to look in his teacher's direction. The anger and disappointment in his face would be devastating.

A servant appeared to provide Potter Hari with his second bowl, much to their guest's disappointment as he picked up his second bowl and began to eat. Lan Yuan sympathised, he did, for someone so small it would be a struggle to eat so much, but once he began training, he would struggle to restrict himself to only three – Spirits and Ancestors knew that both he and Jingyi struggled not to try and sneak fourths or fifths, or even snacks between lessons. Days when they practised martial-skills from dawn till dusk were the hardest, every Disciple was absolutely ravenous on those days, and too tired to be concerned by things like table manners. Hanguang-Jun often caught a number of trouble-makers sneaking down to Caiyi on those days looking to get more to eat in the town.

Still, he ate, even if he struggled with it. Eventually admitting defeat and taking the remainder of his pills and finishing up his tea with an expression of slight discomfort.

He – cut a very different figure in his black robes than he did in the borrowed Lan whites.

In white he looked delicate, the fading yellow of his bruises looking sickly, it only served to highlight how thin his neck and wrists were, the beautiful colour of his eyes. But the black robes, the few layers it bore but the utilitarian cut of them, he looked older than they had previously estimated, the red and gold trim warming his skin, serving to make him look less sickly, while the dark colour made his eyes look sharper, more dangerous. He was all of a sudden, now that Lan Yuan was paying him attention, a very different creature to the one from yesterday. Even the way he sat was slightly different. He tried to emulate them in the white robes, stiff and obviously uncomfortable, and clearly found it difficult to navigate the many layers in strange places and lengths. Now though, he was significantly more relaxed, at ease, and as they got to their feet, he needed no assistance even with one of his arms in a sling.

Even the way he stood was different, now that Lan Yuan was paying attention.

He stood like some of the Seniors who had fought in the SunShot campaign, and it was more apparent now than ever before, and Lan Yuan wondered how he'd missed it before.

“To the Zitengshi,” Jingyi declared, leading the way to the healing halls where they were met by Nie Libo, the maiden smiling as soon as she saw them coming down the carefully maintained path.

“Senior Lan Qihua is with the other Seniors today,” she told them, bowing politely, “I've set aside a space for Young Master Potter's check up in one of the seclusion houses if you'll come with me,” she declared cheerfully, beaming as she began to lead them down one of the smaller paths to the private houses set aside for Masters who required long-term care for injuries, illnesses, or those who were undergoing seclusion for whatever reason. The house in question had recently been aired, and there were privacy screens set up. Nie Libo turned to them, “I must ask you wait here while this check up occurs,” she told them and they bowed in acceptance before she turned and smiled _much_ more nicely to Potter Hari. Lan Yuan kept his face placid even as his hands fisted in his sleeves. “This way, Young Master Potter.”

Potter Hari's face was uncomfortable as he agreed and followed her behind the privacy screens. They could hear her directing him to remove his outer layers so she could see him, yes, Young Master Potter, _all of them_. No, no, those you may keep on if you're shy, haha.

Jingyi fumed beside him, his eyes narrowing.

Oh good. He wasn't being unreasonable. She _was_ being inappropriate.

It was a peculiar torture to stand in perfect silence, patiently waiting for the check up to be concluded, listening to Nie Libo flirt at Potter Hari, complimenting him on his scars, how soft his skin was, how pretty his eyes, she liked his hair, it was much nicer now that it was long, and inbetween listening to her chattering how his injuries, personal and intimate information that made his stomach turn in upset. Potter Hari's Golden Core had been _ripped out of him?_ He was so upset he couldn't even find it in himself to blush when he heard her comment on how strong his Yin energy was, and prattle about how rare it was to find boys with Yin energy – she herself had strong Yang so very few were interested in a wife like her. They were in the same boat, weren't they? No woman would appreciate a husband with so much Yin energy when she had enough of her own after all. Hahaha.

“Your Qi is rebalancing well, the incense purification is also working away the lingering resentment in your scars. But you've done _something_ to inflame your meridians somehow.... did you pull for your Core recently?” Nie Libo asked, and they heard Hari's sharp intake of hair and shaky exhale.

“Yes. Yesterday. I was startled out of meditation and didn't recall where I was.”

“Mn, that's common. I'll arrange for someone to play Rest and Clarity for you. And choose where you meditate with more care, the Lan Clan have supernatural time-keeping instincts and will pull themselves out of meditation in accordance to their own body rhythms, the rest of us mere mortals are not so gifted,” she laughed, only a little mockingly, and Lan Yuan felt anger warm his insides even as he snapped a hand out to latch onto Jingyi's shoulder before he could storm in angrily. He shook his head mutely. Giving into anger was forbidden. And it was not as though she had spoken untrue or poorly of them, her tone had insinuated it though, but that was not something punishable. “They will likely believe they are doing you a favour by pulling you out of meditation in order to attend your next lesson or meal, I would suggest you meditate before bed if you need to. That way you won't be disturbed.”

“I see. Thank you Senior Nie Libo. And my arm? You have been.... using a lot of poultice on it....”

She laughed, “You jarred yourself, I can tell. You're so delicate that I need to take extra care. Once I've finished I'll use the acupuncture Senior Lan Qihua did last time. It will clear up the last dregs of resentment in your arm which means we'll be able to use Qi-Healing on you tomorrow and get you good as new. Well almost. I'm not going to let them get rid of this. What kind of knife was it?”

“You.... can tell it was a knife?”

“Mn-hm! Definitely not a sword, and it's easy to see you didn't do it to yourself. Look how it trails away from you and the angle of the cut. If it were you doing it, it would cut in the other direction,” she lectured knowledgeably. “So, what was it? Was it some kind of fight? Who would take you into such a battle! You're just like a little bird.”

Jingyi was about to kick down the privacy screen. Lan Yuan cleared his throat pointedly to remind them that there were still other people present. He also decided quite firmly that he needed to re-evaluate his own thoughts and biases because hearing his own thoughts coming out of that maiden's mouth, hearing how diminutive and condescending they were, he did not like that he would think down of Potter Hari in such a fashion. Objectively, yes, he was small, and sweet, and delicate. But that had not stopped him from cussing out Jiang Wanyin hard enough to blister their ears and turn Jin Ling three different shades of white, red, and purple in quick succession, nor had it stopped him from throwing himself into two fights so far beyond him because it was the _right_ thing to do and he could actually help.

“That is personal.”

“I can keep a secret.”

Silence, and then the girl laughed, “Alright, alright. I won't ask. No need to puff your feathers up like that.”

“Don't pinch my cheek,” Potter Hari's voice commanded shortly, it was such a tone that both Jingyi and Lan Yuan stiffened instinctively. They had heard that particular tone only a tiny handful of times in their lives, usually from Hanguang-Jun or Senior Lan Qiren when something serious had occurred. Disciple Nie must have recognised it herself from her own Seniors, which was unsurprising, and she fell obediently quiet.

For a little while.

“It's a shame you didn't come to the Unclean Realm, that's the Nie Sect's compound. We specialise in Qi Deviation and resentful energy. We also have a lot of delicious meats to eat that would help you recover faster,” she declared cheerfully as they heard water sloshing a little. “Maybe once you've rebalanced your energies you could see our healers as well. The Unclean Realm isn't as pretty as Cloud Recesses, but there are a lot less steps and rules, and our Sect Leader has been trying to soften our image of brutish warriors. I'm sure he'd love to meet you.”

There was an icy silence.

“Hanguang-Jun and his Clan have been very kind to me. And you're being rude. Could you please hurry up? I would like to leave soon,” Potter Hari's voice clipped out tightly.

“Mn, of course, wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting, would we?” she asked, only slightly dismissively. “I'm going to put a few needles up here too, just to help with your Qi-Flow. Try not to tense up.”

They waited another twenty minutes in silence, Potter Hari stubbornly ignoring any attempts by Maiden Nie to start conversation with him, and Maiden Nie refusing to give up entirely. Jingyi was practically vibrating with fury beside him while Lan Yuan felt as though he had merely emptied himself, like a stone in a river, her words washed over him like so much noise, and he refused to consider them. Instead he wondered if he should speak to Lan Qihua and Lan Qiren regarding his knowledge of Clarity, he was the First Disciple, he did possess a guqin made specifically for him, and he was skilled enough to be well on his way to mastery. But were his skills adequate enough for medical use? That was something he would need to broach with the two of them before offering any aid to Potter Hari.

Eventually they heard the sound of the needles being set aside, Maiden Nie chattering away about how much smoother his Qi was now flowing, she was a genius after all. Harry thanked her stiffly and they could hear rustling fabric as his arm was re-bandaged and splinted, and he quickly began to redress.

“Come back to see me tomorrow. We'll see how your Qi-flows are and if they're still good then we'll start working on the rest of your body.”

Hari thanked her again and they heard him quickly approach.

He was.... visibly distressed when he stepped out from the privacy screen and Lan Yuan felt such a sudden _sharp_ spike of rage and concern that had he been holding something he probably would have broken it. As it was, he was very quick to slide behind him, hand going to the small of his back as Jingyi opened the sliding door for him to quickly remove their friend from the premises.

“I'll go and speak to Senior Lan Qihua,” Jingyi muttered as they headed up the path back to the Zitengshi, his face like thunder. “Potter Hali, do you want me to pick up some more incense for you? Do you need more?” he asked briskly.

Potter Hari shook his head, “I've only used one stick,” he reminded them with a slight roll of his eyes, still looking angry and upset and uncomfortable all at once.

“Three,” Lan Yuan corrected, “When Lan Jingyi and I came to wake you this morning, we lit two more when we recalled Senior Qihua saying to let you sleep. You are supposed to burn two at once when sleeping, and three in meditation,” he explained, pressing his hand a little more firmly into his back when he heard the cottage door open, Maiden Nie no doubt returning to the Zitengshi. He looked pointedly at Jingyi who nodded and headed off.

“Where is A-Yi going? Isn't it lunch time soon for you two?” Potter Hari asked.

“He will be finished by then. We will be going to sit a little early than usual. You are upset and need some tea,” he concluded quietly. Tea always made him feel better, it would have been even better if it were with Hanguang-Jun in Jingshi but such things were not possible, even if he knew his guardian would not begrudge him taking a moment inside to seek comfort. If Hanguang-Jun were not there, then it would not be anywhere near as soothing.

Instead, they headed up to the dining hall again, Senior Lan Qiren was still present, he had tea with him and seemed to be in quiet reflection and with half or more of a bell before the meal was due to start, Lan Yuan took a chance and joined him.

His teacher took one look at them and his quiet melancholy expression fled into one of alarm, concern, and anger.

“What has happened?” he asked shortly, keeping his voice quiet as Lan Yuan guided Potter Hari to sit between them.

“A check up with Disciple Nie Libo for Potter Hali's arm, and Qi-flow,” he explained tightly. “A number of inappropriate comments were made towards the Young Master. Lan Jingyi is speaking with Senior an Qihua regarding it.”

Potter Hari shook his head, “She wasn't inappropriate?” he said, looking at him in confusion.

“Many of her comments upset you, Potter Hali,” he pointed out, having to tightly leash his temper at some of them.

“What manner of comments?” Senior Lan Qiren demanded, stroking his beard in annoyance. So Lan Yuan explained, the diminutives, the dismissal, the observation of his scarring, and from the sound of it the inappropriate touching that Potter Hari neither invited not appreciated.

His teacher scowled, “I see that Disciple Nie Libo would do well to copy the Wall of Discipline a few times and reflect on their _meanings_ as she does so,” he concluded unhappily, “Of all situations to occur with a maiden in the Zitengshi, this was not one I had envisioned.” Lan Yuan knew the one that he, and the other Seniors, had envisioned – they believed that if any inappropriateness were to occur to a maiden amongst men, it would be by the hands of visiting Disciples onto said maidens. Not the maidens themselves using their positions to harass male guests. Maiden Nie's overflowing Yang energy was one of the few reasons she had approval for her apprenticeship on this side of the Cloud Recesses, she was considered a poor example of femininity. She had been quite right in her prior comments that very few would want her for a wife when her Yang energy was greater than that of her husband's own, so clearly the solution to such was to find a husband strong in Yin energy, a far greater difficulty than the opposite.

Senior Lan Qiren looked at Potter Hari who had been silent through it all, sipping his tea. “And your thoughts, Young Master Potter Hali? Are you as taken with Disciple Nie Libo as she with you?” he asked stiffly.

Potter Hari shook his head, “I don't know her. How could I be taken with her at all? All she has done it put her hands on me, call me weak and delicate, and speak down about your kindness? I'm sure sure what I feel for her is somewhat the opposite of what she desires,” he stated flatly with a shake of his head.

“Her Yang energy would be a good balance to your Yin,” he pointed out, as if he were not actively digging a hand into Lan Yuan's chest and squeezing his heart.

Potter Hari frowned at him, “Possibly. But that doesn't make _her_ a good balance for _me_. I don't know her, and at this point, I don't much like her either,” he explained shortly. “The women of my country fought long and hard to be allowed to choose their marriage partners, to be entitled to leave men who mistreated them or their children, to inherit property and land, and even work whatever job they were qualified to work regardless of their gender. We don't do arranged marriages or political marriages anymore. To marry for anything less than love is considered improper, and insulting to whomever you marry. It happens, of course it does, in every system someone is always going to try and take advantage but.... You're supposed to be marrying someone because you want to spend your life with that someone. Not because you want their stuff or their energy or their clan name. That isn't right.”

Lan Yuan looked down at his tea, that horrible bubbling hard anger in his stomach floating away as if it had never been there at all. Hari understood. He _understood_. And he could tell by Senior Qiren's expression that he knew that too.

Resignation was written all over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh Sizhui, you're such a sweet bean.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** More of Disciple Nie's bullshit.

Things settled into a kind of routine for a few days where the most strenuous thing Harry did was walk with A-Zhui and A-Yi to and from their classes and then down to the Zitengshi where he would be looked over by Lan Zhuoying, a male Disciple to Senior Lan Qihua. Harry assumed Disciple Nie was in trouble for how she spoke to him, but Disciple Lan Zhuoying didn't hold it against him, he didn't speak of her at all in fact save to tell him that she was working on medicine production and that he would be handling his treatment from now on. He seemed pleased by the change, as far as Harry could tell, maybe she had been rude to him too, he didn't know. But he didn't bring it up further.

He would sleep well past whatever hour that the Lan Clan deemed appropriate for the beginning of the day, but Harry was _firmly_ blaming that on the incense that Jingyi and Sizhui relit for him every morning when they checked in on him. He woke up somewhen close to eleven o'clock, bathed, and headed down to the Zitengshi where he would have his check up with Zhuoying. His arm would be massaged with the poultice, stabbed with acupuncture needles – one day Senior Lan Qihua had even put little pieces of burning incense on the tips of the needles, he fell into a kind of drugged stupor that morning, but the smouldering incense heated the metal, and because of the length of the needle, his skin didn't burn but he felt the warm right the way through. It was such an _odd_ sensation. She was pleased with the rate of his healing, and said that once the Seniors in the Zitengshi were healed enough to return to their own homes that she would bring him in for a full body acupuncture and Qi-healing session.

When he was finished with the Zitengshi, he would go up to the midday meal where he would meet with both A-Yi and A-Zhui. With nothing to do with his time, he would join them in their lessons, sitting quietly if they were in class, listening to their lectures and recitings – occasionally the teacher would ask for his opinion, reminding them that all knowledge was important and a fresh perspective was always valuable. Harry however had a bad habit of answering relatively simple questions in ways that turned the lesson into long philosophical debates regarding morality, law, society, and culture. After the first few times he tried to beg off answering, not wanting to derail the lesson, only for Senior Lan Xiaozhi to dismiss his concerns. Stating outright that the intellectual stimulation was more valuable, his students needed to actually learn how to _think_ and understand, and not merely parrot the words of wiser men as if it made them their equal.

Harry couldn't really argue with that, so instead, he got a little mean with it, making a point to play devil's advocate in the discussions – and ended up starting a debate that almost resulted in a classroom riot.

Senior Lan Xiaozhi assigned _all_ of them the task of copying the rules, for Harry only the once – and no he wasn't getting out of it purely because he was illiterate, he would learn. And the others had to copy said rules three times, while performing handstands. And they were to help Harry with his own copying as well.

It surprised him to learn that all of the Lan Sect students were ambidextrous – until they were in the library copying out their characters and Harry realised that it was purely self-defence that they learned. Because the teacher had _not_ been joking about writing the rules out again while doing a handstand. Which meant they needed to hold themselves up on one arm, and write with the other. Swapping over when the strain became too great.

Harry was pretty good at pattern recognition, he could write lines as good as any Gryffindor troublemaker, so he had no issue with quick writing each character. He didn't understand the words so it made no bones to him what he was copying down.

He got three pages in before A-Zhui realised he wasn't doing them correctly and explained about stroke order and beginning. Apparently when writing with a brush, the way you did every stroke of the character and the order you did them in could change the meaning of certain characters. Harry had not copied three pages of rules. He had written three pages of very similar looking nonsense. He had to laugh at himself, which gave the other Disciples the permission needed to chuckle a little at his expense, even with A-Zhui shooting them disapproving looks for it.

Harry didn't get the stroke orders correctly, but now that he knew about the little tails and tabs of ink on the characters, he was able to at least make his characters look right, even if he didn't write them in the right order.

It was still a two day task for him to write the rules – and he only had to do so once.

The others managed their three copies in that time, whole swapping from hand to hand.

And then it was time for him to go under the needle.

All of the Seniors who had been harmed during the attempted summoning of the evil arm were back in their own homes, meaning the Zitengshi was once again back to business as usual and Senior Lan Qihua could focus on him personally. She arranged for one of the smaller cottages to be prepared for his use, explaining that they would be hot-boxing him with incense for much of his treatment to aid in his Qi-flow and eventually when the acupuncture was finished, they would move onto healing the damage to his soul, meridians, and dantian. This would not be a short process. She hoped that they would be able to restore his ability to condense and refine his Qi, as there were still scraps of his foundation remaining, even if they were saturated with foreign Yuan energy.

“At this point I am fairly certain that if you begin to cultivate from scratch, it will be Yin energy gathered in your core,” Lan Qihua explained as she showed him several anatomy scrolls, explaining the process to him. “I will need you to meditate as deeply as you possibly can throughout this treatment, it will open your meridians all the way through to your dantian and your soul, giving us the opportunity to flush your system of that harmful Yuan energy you have already drawn in. With that out of the way, we can fix up that foundation of yours. You'll be as weak as a newborn calf in the first few days, but as soon as you learn those beginning refinement techniques, I imagine you'll instinctively start attempting to rebuild your core.” She leaned back, rubbing her chin in an action that reminded him acutely of Lan Qiren. “By all rights, reforming a Golden Core should be impossible at your age. But.... Your body instinctively attempts to do so even to your physical detriment. Hence your absorption of harmful Yin and Yuan energy. The abuse you suffered, the moulding, it continued to force you to condense your core long after you naturally would have stopped. And now you _cannot_.”

So basically, Harry's black flag curse was his body attempting to fill the void where his magic had been by drawing in familiar energy – familiar energy as in, the same Qi-alignment his mother had (Yin energy), and the dark magic that was used on him most (Yuan energy). And right now they were going to go through him and get rid of all the Yuan energy that was mucking his body up, they were going to stabilise his Yin energy, fix the foundation of his spiritual essence, and then teach him how to cultivate from the ground up. But because his natural Yang energy had been crushed by years of Yin and Yuan, they were pretty sure he wouldn't be able to cultivate as a _guy_ , so – Lan Qihua was going to seek one of the female teachers to speak to him.

Harry _really_ wanted to know what the difference between Yin and Yang energy was because so far, he hadn't sensed any kind of difference between the energy that Lan Qihua used and Lan Qiren used.

In the end, he didn't remember a damn thing about the procedure when it actually happened. One of the external cottages was prepared, it was already thick with incense when he arrived first thing in the morning, his head began swimming almost immediately as he was guided to a privacy screen and told to strip, bathe with the provided potion, and wear only the provided modesty garb. It was a weird thong with a groin flap. He was too high to be embarrassed since he knew that it was only so they had as much skin as possible to stab so he did as he was told, too well trained by Madam Pomfrey not to.

When he was done, he lay down on the table as directed and – that was it.

He had a vague impression of voices and a deep ache and something like hot water filling him, but when he woke up it was dark and he felt like he'd been hit by the Knight Bus. He promptly went back to sleep. He woke to Disciple Nie Libo sponging him clean but was so exhausted he couldn't do more than frown at her a moment before he fell back asleep, catching her smiling sadly at him, gently touching his cheek before he was gone. The next time he woke, he was awake and aware, the incense not even a memory of a smell in the air as he slowly levered himself upright in his bedding. It was mid-afternoon and Lan Qihua appeared to check him over and feed him.

She declared the procedure a success and made sure he was fed before calling the nearest Disciple to escort him to the dormitories, as much as Lan Qihua would have liked to keep him in for observation they'd had a prior warning that a night-hunt had gone somewhat awry in the Southern territories and there were concerns of a disease, all of the returning cultivators would be quarantined in the cottages so unfortunately he would be returned to the Dormitories. Disciple Nie Libo stepping from the backroom was a little unpleasant but he was so tired it wasn't worth a fight. She was perfectly nice as she helped him dress, his arm was still broken and her touch was gentle as she even drew his hair up into a ribbon, winking at him as she threaded the unfamiliar bright spring-green silk into his hair. Complimenting him on how it fine it looked before helping him into shoes and then onto his feet.

The walk to the Disciple dormitories was slow, but it was surprisingly nice. Disciple Nie chattered aimlessly and warmly as she patiently helped him up the stairs, practically carrying the entirety of his weight a time or two on the longer ones, her hand around his waist, the other grasping his good arm as they walked. She never once attempted to pick him up, or hurry him, which he appreciated for no other reason than she had already insulted his pride a little before hand (he wasn't _delicate_ thank you). She told him all about Qinghe and the Unclean Realm, about how her Sect Leader Nie Huaisang had so many pretty things like delicate fans and beautiful embroidery – she had wanted to learn how to make that embroidery as a little girl but found herself entirely too hamhanded and incapable of sitting still for it, she confessed with a carefree laugh. He was a good leader, she confided, everyone always called him a headshaker but he was very diligent and decisive behind closed doors, he just took time to think and consider his angles, he couldn't handle it when someone demanded an answer from him immediately, he crumpled under scrutiny. He was so shy – just like A-Li, she laughed, giving his hip a gentle stroke as they climbed the stairs to the dorms and making all the hair on the back of his neck stand on end with discomfort.

It wasn't a big deal, it wasn't like she was being inappropriate towards him, he was just being sensitive and – yeah. He closed his eyes tiredly and pressed his lips together.

At this time of day, all the Disciples were in classes unless they were ill, at which point they would be in their rooms resting and not inflicting their illness on others. The fact that women were forbidden from the building did not even give Disciple Nie pause as she stepped in, continuing to support him and laughed about the smell, “Teenage boy, I forgot this smell!” she laughed boisterously. Thankfully for Harry, she didn't delay their return to his room in order to get her fill, Harry knew what she was talking about, he had lived in a dormitory with other guys, he couldn't understand how she didn't find the smell disgusting but he wasn't about to say anything.

“Huh... Your rooms are actually smaller, but they're private which seems a little unfair. I have to share with another girl,” Disciple Nie observed idly as she guided him to the bed. “There we are. Down you go, my little lamb. Let's see how you're doing,” she decided, touching his face, checking his temperature and nodding to herself.

“L-lamb?” he echoed, frowning at her.

“Mn, you didn't like me calling you little bird, so little lamb it is. And all bundled up in these blankets you'll be just as fluffy and warm as one,” she declared happily, petting his hair and reaching up to undo the green ribbon. “The Nie Clan were butchers before we became cultivators, we keep a lot of livestock. The baby lambs are my favourite, they're so cute and lively. So I call you little lamb, because I want you to be up and bouncing around like them as soon as possible,” she explained with a soft smile that made his inside squirm uncomfortably. “Now, let's get you out of that outer robe and comfortable, I'll light some incense for you and you can close those pretty eyes of yours and rest as much as you need,” she told him with a kind smile, her hand lingering on his cheek as she pulled away and knelt to pull his shoes off.

He was too tired to argue so he let her take off his over-robe, even if he drew the line at her touching his under robe, she shrugged, making no attempt to push as she turned her attention to swaddling him in blankets.

She lit three sticks of incense and knelt at his table and began to pull out medicine bottles, “These'll be for when you wake up. I'll leave instructions for Disciple Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi to help you. You're going to feel really weak for a few days as your dantian finishes healing up, don't worry about trying to keep to a schedule, sleep and eat when you need to, and only as much as you can stomach. Just remember to drink a lot,” she requested as she wrote with quick and smooth brush-strokes.

“Mn... I will. Thank you,” he murmured, already feeling the incense making his brain soupy and slow, his exhaustion from the walk here dragging him towards sleep as Disciple Nie smiled sweetly at him.

“No need for thanks, A-Li,” she told him, her voice far away as his eyes slid shut.

He was vaguely aware of things after that, clinking bottles, an ink-stone in use, warm fingers in his hair, gently pulling his hair down and settling him into a more comfortable position and adjusting the blankets around him. A woman's voice telling him of Qinghe and the Unclean Realm, of the wind-chimes that tinkled and sang in the rain, of the boar that would come down to forage in the gardens and their cute little piglets playing under her window, the smell of hot metal and soot in the forges and the big friendly men and women who were always singing or laughing, or cursing. The taste of spices and roasting meat, the bouncing of lambs and goats that they kept and how much she missed lambing season because without fail her mother would bring one that was a little too small, or rejected by its mother, and set it in a basket in front of the fire and they would bottle feed it until it was old enough to join the flock. He would like it, she knew. He was quiet, but he wasn't stiff; he had his feet on the ground, not his head up in the clouds. And if he let her, she would take care of him. It was what he deserved. It sounded nice. Qinghe. With the piglets and the lambs, and the lively loud forge full of cousins and friends. He slipped deeper into sleep, stirring a little when someone touched his face and pulled his blankets more securely around him, a deeper voice murmuring something about incense and homework before it went quiet again.

He slept hard, and woke up confused and aching, but clear headed, all trace of incense gone from his room.

He wasn't alone in his room as he expected, and it took him a moment to place the faces he blinked at from within his nest of blankets, Jingyi, Sizhui, and their friend Ouyang Zizhen in his clan's green and grey robes. He craned his head uncertainly, he had.... definitely come back in the mid-afternoon, but right now the sun was coming directly into his room, which only happened in the _morning_. Had he slept for an entire day?

“Hi,” he greeted them in a rough rasp, blinking slowly as the three boys jumped and almost spilt their ink across themselves as they quickly twisted in their seats to see him, “Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but what are you doing here?” he asked roughly as Sizhui quickly got to his feet and came over.

He laid a hand on Harry's forehead, checking his temperature. “It's a free day, and we were worried about you,” he explained before smiling down at him, pulling his hand away, satisfied that he wasn't running a fever or unreasonably chilled.

“Oh.... Thank you,” he rasped slowly, closing his eyes briefly. He must have dozed for a little because Jingyi was talking about how they needed to get him to drink something before letting him sleep again, they should get him to eat as well but that might be a tall order right now. Harry mumbled and began the arduous task of gathering his limbs and trying to push himself upright.

Sizhui hovered, obviously wanting to help, but giving him his space, which was much appreciated because right now he felt very weak and scraped absolutely raw but.... _inside?_ Like his veins had been scoured and any weird temperatures felt _more_. Harry eventually managed to sit up and swing his legs off his bed, weakly dragging his blankets around his shoulders and legs so he wasn't technically in the Chinese equivalent of his underwear in front of his friends – he didn't bother with his hair, he didn't have the arm strength to fuss with it, and he didn't know if it was out of line to ask Sizhui to pull it back for him since he couldn't. So he covered his head with the blanket as well.

Jingyi got to his feet, “I'll go and get your food, any tea preference? You gotta drink.”

Harry shook his head, he didn't like a lot of the teas they had here, but he would drink them all the same, they were warm and wet and right now he was so tired he doubted he could taste a damn thing. Zizhen gave him a thoughtful look before suggesting ginseng and honey tea, which had Jingyi perking up in obvious agreement before he hurried out to the kitchens.

“How long did I sleep for?” he asked roughly.

“A day,” Sizhui explained getting up with obvious reluctance and returning to his spot beside the table where they had been writing and reading, likely doing homework given how diligent they all were. “We were planning to wake you at lunch if you didn't rouse yourself,” he admitted, looking miserable at the very idea of disturbing obviously needed rest and breaking the instructions of Lan Qihua but resolved to do so anyway so that he could eat properly.

Harry smiled weakly at them, “Thanks. I _think_ I ate after the procedure but that was a full day ago and I'm not sure.... That incense makes my brain soup.”

Zizhen smiled in commiseration at him, “What it lacks in clarity of mind, it makes up for in Qi-healing. I cannot say I am keen on the side-effects either, I feel as though my head is filled with clouds and the word around me is full of ripples and crystal chimes,” he admitted with a small shake of his head. “I have heard that those with no talent for cultivation only find the smell pleasant, while those with weak cores become lethargic, and that the stronger you become the less it effects you.”

“Good to know,” Harry admitted with a small puff of air, at least his friends weren't going to pass out or get second hand high just from visiting him.

Jingyi returned pretty quickly, Lan Kongming with him holding a second tray with tea and cups pausing and going a little pink at the sight of Harry wrapped up in blankets, obviously still abed, with his hair down at that. But he made no comment as everyone got themselves comfortable again and Harry's breakfast was set beside him to pick at as his leisure. Along with his medicine – which thankfully Sizhui had taken over preparing and instructing him on.

Good thing he was used to the potions from the Hospital Wing or eating the sludgy lard-like black gel would have been impossible, not for the flavour, it tasted a little burnt and also kind of menthol and chocolatey all at once, but for the texture. The texture was _vile_. Harry had to have this 'Body Tempering Liquid' six times a day, one before his meal and one immediately after his meal. Once his sleep-pattern stabilised he would be strictly monitored for his intake until they identified him as having enough Qi to start the refinement process.

Lan Kongming stared at him, “You are.... beginning your cultivation journey at a considerably later age than I believed possible, Young Master Potter,” the lanky boy admitted, his deep cinnamon coloured brown eyes wide in his long angular face.

Harry grimaced, wondering how to explain before shrugging and deciding to use the summary he pieced together from Lan Qihua and Lan Qiren's discussions, “Apparently I was....” oh fuck he forgot the word. He wanted to say _groomed_ but he didn't know the ancient chinese for it. Fuck. “Grown? B-brushed.....? Manipulated? I don't know the word, um, but anyway. There was someone who would be equivalent to one of your Demonic Cultivators in my home country, he tore a little piece of his soul off and forced it into me as a baby and kind of kept forcing corrupted Yin and Yuan energy into me as I got older. Senior Lan Qihua said it was akin to being used as a cultivation 'Well',” he explained, watching as their eyes got wide and their faces paled in horror. He hadn't actually explained any of this, had he? Bit of an oversight. He was just so used to Ron and Hermione knowing how fucked up everything was that he was starting to actually get a little uncomfortable by the naked horror and upset on their faces. “Because I was kind of being forced to cultivate that energy way past when I would have grown out of it.... I kind of can't actually stop? And since my Core got ripped out, I started drawing in the energy that my body was most familiar with since everything kind of crushed my original Yang energy so – what everyone thought was a curse was actually just my body drawing in as much Yin and Yuan as it could.” There. That was as quick and clean a summary as he could manage.

He busied his mouth with the rest of his food, so he couldn't have to look at anyone.

“Did he – touch you?” Sizhui asked softly, seriously.

Harry swallowed his mouthful and stared down at his hands, “Of course he did. He spent half his time using torture curses and trying to literally kill me. But if you're meaning actually physically laying hands on me, only twice. One when I was eleven, and again when I was fourteen. The protections my mother laid on me before her death turned the body he was possessing to ashes the first time. The second.... He decided to make an exhibition out of it. It was pure luck I managed to escape, but the most he did was put a single hand on my face.” Voldemort didn't touch him, it was too muggle, too common. After that first time with Quirrel he had been scared. And after the graveyard..... neither of them allowed one another within arms' reach.

There was a faint sound of tearing fabric and Harry glanced over to where Sizhui was breathing slowly and deeply with his eyes shut and a placid look of desperate patience on his face in the same way he had once seen Fleur do when she heard that Beauxbatons had been targetted by Death Eaters – this was swiftly followed by her getting to her feet and apparating away without a backwards word or glance. Three days later, she returned with her younger sister and thirty other students all smelling faintly of smoke. To any astonished witches and wizards who didn't understand, Harry, Bill, and Krum could only groan in disgust and remind them that she was a _Triwizard Champion for a reason_.

Jingyi jumped to his feet, “Excuse me,” he requested stiffly, leaving the room.

Harry sighed a little, “I'm sorry, maybe I should have explained better. Lan Qihua explained _some_ of the connotations of how this would likely be viewed, but, the situation was nothing like that. I promise. The man in question never had any intention of doing anything beyond killing me. Any.... energy mixing or what not was purely accidental.” Ginny commented once when they had a long frank talk about it that she wasn't surprised that they had brother wands, or that he managed to hold onto a horcrux in his head without ill-effect for literally years. If Harry was to ever have a soul-mate, then Voldemort was probably it, their magic was a perfect compliment for one another. Shame about the age difference and the murder though. That – had been the night that Harry grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey and got blackout drunk for the first and only time in his life. Sadly not even a litre bottle of firewhiskey had been enough to wipe that memory out of his head, though George gave him points for a solid try on his first attempt. 10/10, gold star.

“I – am not sure if that makes this better or worse, Young Master Potter,” Zizhen admitted with a sideways glance to Sizhui even as he lifted a sleeve to hide his expression somewhat.

Harry waved it off, “Better. If he _had_ been that way inclined, then there would have been a great many other children far more at risk than I. And I may not have liked some of my classmates, but their parents worked for the man, he would have had free and unlimited access to any of them if he wished.” If Voldemort had been that particular breed of monster, then Draco Malfoy would have been an awful lot more messed up. And both senior Malfoys' probably wouldn't have survived the war – for all their purist ideals and power hunger, they _loved_ their son. They would have moved heaven and earth for him. Neither of them would have let Voldemort prey on him, even at the cost of their lives.

The fabric tore even more and Harry leaned forward, setting his food aside to pat Sizhui's hand, “Enough of that now, A-Zhui. You'll make more work for the seamstresses,” he scolded gently, “It happened, it was terrible, we're all moving on and making the best of it. That's all we can do,” he concluded as Sizhui looked up at him, his expression tortured. He patted the Disciple's hand again and leaned back to finish his lunch/breakfast, ignorant to the way his friend's hand lifted to catch his own only to quickly drop down and tuck into his sleeves.

Ouyang Zizhen glanced with wide eyes at Jingyi who glowered defensively at him, when he glanced to Kongming he got only a sharp judging look and quickly hid his mouth behind a sleeve, looking uncomfortable.

“Are you finished eating? Do you need more?” Jingyi asked when Harry put down his last bowl.

Harry grimaced, “No, that's – enough. I don't want to eat anymore,” he promised.

His friend nodded and got to his feet, “C'mon Ouyang Zizhen, lets take all this back to the kitchen,” he declared with only a little bit of force as he collected up the dishes. They were plentiful, but they were small and easily stacked, he could have managed without help but apparently Harry wasn't the only one who realised that it wasn't a request and he didn't call on Zizhen for help. The green robed boy looked nervous as he got to his feet and gathered the remaining dishes, meekly following after their louder friend out of Harry's dormitory.

“What's that about?” Harry asked, peering at Kongming and Sizhui who glanced to each other, the former uncertainly, the latter with cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Perhaps,” Kongming spoke slowly, “Jingyi is explaining some of the reasons behind some Lan Sect rules for manners. In another Sect, us being in your room while you slept, and your being in your under-robe would be unseemly. But we do not believe in holding the sick to standard. If you are unwell, you are unwell and must be cared for regardless of manners or dignity.” His smile was playful, “No one is dignified with a runny nose. Save perhaps Hanguang-Jun or Zewu-Jun.”

* * *

Harry recovered quickly, a mixture of regular acupuncture to assist in his Qi-flow, body tempering liquid, pills, and sleeping with incense sticks. The decent meals also helped (he would however ritually murder a small child for chicken nugget at this point though).

He was actually doing well enough that he was invited to the beginner's classes, with the little ones who were all so serious and earnest and eager to help him, he couldn't help but coo over them. They were painfully adorable in their blue robes and headbands, telling him very seriously how to do his stretches and drills, lecturing him like their teachers but forgetting words and getting a few wrong. It had been _such_ a trial not to laugh, he was pretty sure he actually hurt himself trying not to laugh, when one knowledgeable little boy told him that he had to be as swift and ever changing as the fart (Harry assumed he meant wind), and every other little boy around him nodded solemnly in agreement.

He cried with laughter into Sizhui's shoulder as he tried to explain what happened, but he was cackling too hard he almost asphyxiated. Poor Sizhui had to hold him up until he could breathe properly, and even then he almost burst out into undignified cackling during dinner. He had to bite his lip bloody to stop himself which made his friend panic when he saw it afterwards.

He also giggled so hard when he wrote about it in his bi-monthly letter back home that his handwriting was almost illegible but at least they knew he was enjoying himself. They were just too cute and so serious about it. It wasn't _that_ funny but, oh, it was so charmingly adorable he couldn't help but laugh every time he thought about it.

Disciple Nie Libo was around an awful lot as well, making sure he was recovering properly. She sat on his otherside at every meal to make sure he took his medicine and check his temperature and pulse. Occasionally she would direct him to take half a spoon more of the body tempering liquid, or not to take it at all as it would only hamper his Qi-absorption. She was diligent in that, and in trying to talk him into visiting the Nie Sect in Qinghe for a few follow-ups with their healers, not that she thought the Lans were substandard, not at all! She was here to learn their healing after all, their purifications were second to none, but when it came to balancing Qi and the risk of deviations, then his best port of call would be Qinghe. She wanted to show him the lambing sheds and the gardens, and the forges. Her grandmother made the _best_ BBQ pork ribs, he would _love_ them.

She was.... like that at every meal, really. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She obeyed the sect rules about speaking while eating and kept her words to before and after meals. She offered to cook for him, and when his health improved a little more take him down to Caiyi Town at the foot of the mountain.

“You've never been before, have you?” she gushed excitedly as they headed back towards the dormitories, “They've got _such_ good food, and you can't beat the liquor they make in town! My uncle looks forward to my return every time because I bring him at _least_ three jars of Emperor's Smile,” she confided as she trailed after the back of male Disciples, talking Harry's ear off while he tried to politely find a way to excuse himself. A number of the visiting Disciples seemed to find his situation amusing and encouraged her, but Sizhui, Jingyi, Zizhen, and even Kongming were not so pleased. Actually, _none_ of the Lan Disciples looked very happy when she was anywhere near him. He wondered if she had harassed them at some point..... or if her boisterousness was just making them uncomfortable as a girl. It was probably that, so he tried to be nice even if talking to her was very tiring.

Sizhui told him quietly that if she made him uncomfortable they could talk to Senior Lan Qihua and have his recovery overseen by Lan Zhuoying again, the male disciple he had while Disciple Nie Libo was working on her apothecary studies. Harry smiled weakly at him, muttering about how he felt bad, she must feel very out of place being the only girl their age here, she was probably just reaching out to someone she thought was just as much of an outsider here as herself. She seemed lonely in all honesty.

Sizhui dropped his face into one hand and patted his shoulder, “You are.... far too good, Potter Hali, too kind,” he said, sounding pained. “I have been unfair in my thoughts of Disciple Nie Libo..... I think I need to reflect on my wrong doing. Please excuse me.”

“A-Zhui,” Harry caught his hand, “You can't control your thoughts. Only your actions,” he pointed out gently. “Don't be too hard on yourself, no matter what you think, as long as you don't do anything that would hurt them..... you shouldn't be punished, I don't think.”

The chinese teenager leaned towards him as if suddenly weak, before jerking back upright and nodding, “I should still reflect on my feelings. Figure them out. I don't want to be the kind of person who thinks poorly of others like that,” he admitted miserably. Harry gave his hand a small squeeze, like he would have done for Ron or Hermione when they were beating themselves up for small mistakes that they hated themselves for, things that, had they been any less skilled than they were, could have gotten someone else hurt. Sizhui may not have acted on whatever negative thoughts he had regarding Disciple Nie, but because of them he had certainly made no effort to be friendly or anything but polite to her – which was better than most people but Harry knew that the Gusu Lans' had a specific rule about not excluding others or thinking badly of them. He was probably feeling bad about it now that Harry had pointed it out.

“I understand. I hope you find your answers,” he said, letting him go with a small smile.

Sizhui _tried_ to be friendlier to Disciple Nie after that, actively including her in conversations. It seemed to surprise Jingyi and Kongming greatly, and the two seemed unsure if they should be worried about Sizhui's health or admiring of his restraint. Zizhen however just looked increasingly uncomfortable with Disciple Nie's presence, especially with some of her comments to Harry who.... he was _trying_ to be patient, but it was like – like what he imagined a cat feeling when stroked the wrong direction up their fur.

It all came to a head the day he was declared free of Senior Qihua's oversight, he would no longer be required to visit the Zitengshi for acupuncture, or be monitored by Disciple Nie. As long as he continued to take his medicine with his food and meditate before bed, he would be fine. His arm was still tender and fragile but it would be as good as new within a few days if he kept up his current rate of healing.

She did recommend he no longer have visible ribs before he started utilising the Cold Pool to help with his cultivation though.

Harry could only laugh and say that bathing in ice cold water sounded like the exact opposite of something he wanted to do before making himself scarce before she found something bitter and awful for him to swallow. He celebrated his new freedom with Sizhui, Jingyi and Zizhen by spending an afternoon with them playing with the rabbits. Harry got to meet Sizhui's favourite, Daiyu, who took something of a shine to hiding in his robes where she blended in surprisingly well with the black. Jingyi cackled as he found the big grumpy rabbit that Xuanyu had been so utterly delighted about last time and said it reminded him of Hanguang-Jun. While Zizhen cooed over the very little babies he found all clustered up in a huddle together, barely the size of his hand but clearly only just old enough to leave whatever warren or nest they had.

That night though, Harry had just finished brewing several potions and cleaned his cauldron when he heard a knock at his door with about half an hour before the curfew bell.

“Disciple Nie? What are you doing here?” he asked, sliding the door open in confusion when he saw the girl grinning at him.

“I missed you at dinner so I thought we could have our own in here,” she chirped, shouldering past him, “I dropped by Caiyi town for some BBQ and – ” she whirled around and hoisted up a clay bottle with a grin, “ – Emperor's Smile! The best rice wine in all of Jiangnan!”

Harry smiled a little uncomfortably, “Uh, thank you Disciple Nie, but I'm not much of a drinker. Also, it's almost curfew, you'll get in trouble if you're caught here.” So would he, come to think of it. He grimaced, _he_ knew that there would be no impropriety, but would the Sect Seniors? They were _very_ old fashioned.

Disciple Nie waved a hand dismissively as she set her food onto his recently cleared table, “All Visiting Disciples have an unwritten rule,” she explained cheerfully as she pulled the covering from her clay bottle and took a long pull of the alcohol within. She grinned at him, “We don't squeal on each other about rule breaking, because we all do it. If you told on someone, they would turn around and hit the Seniors with all the rules _you've_ broken too. It's self-preservation to keep your mouth shut. We'll be fine.”

He grimaced, “I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with this, Disciple Nie, I'll admit some of the rules don't make sense to me but you'll get into a lot of trouble if you're caught in the boys dormitory after curfew. It might ruin your future prospects.”

She laughed dismissively and came over, “My prospects are fine!” she promised brightly, pushing his door shut and pulling him into the room at the same time. “Here, you have to at least try it!” she declared, shoving the bottle at him.

He leaned away, “I really – don't – you drink it. You like it don't you? I wouldn't be able to appreciate it properly,” he explained, pushing it back.

“Oh please don't tell me you've been infected by the Lans' lack of funny bone!” she complained in frustration. Shoving the bottle at him a little more intently. Harry might have been weak to peer pressure at one point in his life, and only then when it was certain people like Ron or Hermione, maybe even Ginny at one point, but like _hell_ this girl was going to get him to cave to anything.

“I said no,” he stated flatly, narrowing his eyes, “I also said this was a bad idea. We will both get in trouble and I for one don't have anywhere else to go if Cloud Recesses kicks me out – ”

She was suddenly in his face, practically in his lap, “You can come to Qinghe with me,” she told him eagerly, “I'll take you home, grandmother would love you!”

Harry leaned back, “That's kind of you Disciple Nie – ”

“Nie Tao,” she interrupted, “My personal name. I'd like you to use it, A-Li,” she told him almost breathlessly, leaning into his space a little more.

He scooted backwards pointedly, “Disciple Nie Libo. Your offer is kind but I would rather not leave Cloud Recesses, my guardian is travelling with Hanguang-Jun and I would like to be here when they return,” he told her sharply, tensing a little when she scooted forward again. “Could you back – ”

She kissed him.

She kissed him and his brain hiccupped a moment, he could taste the alcohol she'd just drunk, the edge of something like spices and meat, and then it registered that she was trying to climb into his lap.

He tore his mouth away and shoved his forearm against her chest, “No! Why would – ”

Someone knocked on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A QUICK EXPLANATION:** My memory is shit, so I'm not sure if it has actually been explained prior, but this is an AU fic. Reality rarely follows the timeline pushed on us by publishers, ergo, Sixth Year and Seventh Year did not happen as they did in canon. As soon as Voldemort was outed, he used the whole ass year he had been in hiding building his forces and preparing, to make his move. Harry dropped out of Hogwarts halfway through his Sixth Year when his presence there began to put the other students in danger, he, Ron, and Hermione went on their roadtrip of doom with Dumbledore, the war was an extended campaign of gruella attacks and what not. It wasn't them spending most of their time in a tent focusing solely on Horcruxes. A lot of things still happened as they did in canon, the Hallows, a lot of the Horcruxes, Dumbledore's death, the Final Battle, etc. But it was on the backdrop of the DA and the Order operating as a resistance force in the midst of a fascist civil war. It'll come up again later, but I know people will be confused here and now with some of the shit I've insinuated prior and my brain is a mushy turnip so I couldn't remember if I'd actually explained it.
> 
> Okay, have an update for this while I finish working on the next chapter of Ashes to New. OTL


	10. Chapter 10

Disciple Nie _moved_.

Harry yelped as his back hit the floor, a hand going over his mouth even as she pinned his free wrist.

“Shh, sh, sh, they'll leave in a bit if you _keep quiet_ ,” she hissed, looming over him, her eyes shuttering slightly as she stared down at him beneath her, she swallowed, wetting her lips slightly and Harry suddenly realised that – he might be in a very bad position here. Sexual assault had never been something he thought about, but with memories of Tom Riddle's conception, Romilda Vane's love potion incident, maybe he should have.

He thrashed, trying to yank himself away and felt both of her hands tighten painfully.

“ _Stop, stopit, you'll get us caught!_ ” she hissed actually straddling him on the floor.

The door slid open.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden bright light. He only had a few candles in here and the hallway outside was fairly brightly lit before curfew so the two Disciples in the doorway holding their own lantern were hidden by light-glare. He thought they wore white.... or yellow....

Disciple Nie flashed them a squinted look of annoyance, “Really? Just barging in? We're _busy_ here!” she scolded.

The lantern lowered and there was a rush of _definitely white_. And the sound of flesh hitting flesh, Disciple Nie crumpled – but before she could land on him she was pushed aside.

“A-Li? Are you okay? Are you alright?” Sizhui.

“What the hell?! What the _hell?! Who does she think she is?!!!_ ” Jingyi.

Harry shuddered, and coughed to clear his throat, “I'm – I'm fine,” he said, squinting his eyes open to see his friends, Sizhui was as pale as his robes, knelt beside him as Jingyi raged not too far away, hissing and spitting insults over Disciple Nie's behaviour.

“No you aren't,” Sizhui refuted, actually physically picking him up off the floor and getting to his feet before putting Harry back down on his own.

He sighed, “I'm a little shaken, she might have bruised my wrist, but I'm fine,” he repeated. It wasn't like she _hurt_ him.... he shuddered, drawing in on himself unhappily. No, she hadn't _hurt_ him. She had been trying to do worse. He didn't know why it never occurred to him, why this sort of thing would be a threat to _him_ – hadn't he been so careful and wary of it on _Xuanyu's_ behalf? Physically threatening Hanguang-Jun with murder and never being able to enter the reincarnation cycle if he took advantage. So why had he never thought of himself as being on the receiving end? Even now when he looked back and saw everything Disciple Nie Libo had done in a new, far more uncomfortable light.

How could he have been so stupid?

“We are going to Senior Lan Qiren,” Sizhui decided abruptly, his voice hard as he looked at Jingyi over the top of Harry's head. “Can you bring her, or should I get Lan Kongming to help?” he asked, carefully placing a hand on Harry's back, lightly, ready to move away if he didn't want it. He missed Ron and Hermione, but he was so damn lucky that he had Sizhui and Jingyi supporting him. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if they hadn't come.

Jingyi spat angrily, “Fine. I can handle _her_ ,” he growled. Despite his anger though, he was gentle when picking her up, Harry would say this for the Lan Clan, they were gentlemen through and through.

Sizhui looked an awful lot like Hanguang-Jun as he guided Harry out of the Disciples' dormitory, a hand on his back, giving anyone who peered out of their rooms an icy glare. Whispers followed their heels and Harry could only swallow and curl in on himself even further in humiliation. This shouldn't have happened. He hadn't felt this helpless since – since the Third Task, the graveyard. Being tied to that statue by Wormtail, watching as Voldemort rose again. Knowing it was his fault because he hadn't been fast enough, hadn't been smart enough, if he had _figured it out_ before he and Cedric got into that maze.....

They arrived at the Chunshi, where Senior Lan Qiren lived and knocked.

The look on the man's face when he answered to find his First Disciple with a face like thunder, their newest visiting student with bruises on his face looking like a wilted flower, and their Second Disciple with an unconscious Maiden in arm and an expression of barely controlled wrath would have been comical under other circumstances. Either way, he ushered them all in and Jingyi went to fetch the Senior in charge of the female Disciples and Lan Qihua from the Zitengshi.

Lan Qiren made tea, watching as his nephew's son guided their newest student to a seat as far away from Maiden Nie Libo as possible, firmly placing himself between the two. He had been suspicious of this..... he had seen enough Lan Sect members when they went shoe over headband for someone to identify it, as had many other Seniors. There had been a few comments here and there, gossip was frowned upon but they had only been well-wishes for the future, most Seniors and Disciples who met Young Master Potter had good things to say about him when prompted. That he was coming from such a different culture and actively trying to follow their rules and understand why they were put into place had gone a long way to earning him the good will of other Lan members. Qiren had read the report A-Zhan and A-Yuan had made of the incident with the arm, the child's story of his curse and circumstances were also compelling.

A-Yuan had come to him a few days ago requesting punishment for thinking poorly of Disciple Nie Libo and explained of how Young Master Potter had opened his eyes to a potential injustice that he might have unknowingly been perpetuating.

Looking at them now, he rather believed that A-Yuan had been in the right, and that Young Master Potter's empathy and kindness had seen him burnt by someone he had placed his trust in.

He had just begun to serve the tea when Lan Qihua and Lan Sujing arrived, escorted by a still fuming Jingyi who quickly took a seat beside Young Master Potter without bothering with a cushion. The black clad boy giving him a vague shadow of a smile even as Sizhui straightened up beside him as the two women came in, Lan Qihua taking one look at the situation and cursing quietly, much to her more maidenly companion's disapproval.

“What has the stupid girl done now?” Qihua demanded as she sat and grabbed a cup of tea without invitation, tossing it back in one swallow before thrusting it back out again at him with a scowl. Qiren forgave her. She had been attempting to rein in Nie Libo ever since Young Master Potter came to the Cloud Recesses, several of the male disciples had approached him about her behaviour towards him, and how uncomfortable he seemed to be with it. She was often inappropriate in both her comments and her behaviour, outright soliciting him several times, not that he seemed to realise it, the innocent child.

Qiren turned to his First Disciple pointedly.

Sizhui's lips pressed together forbiddingly, and Qiren had never seen him resemble his father so much before in his life. A-Yuan was often full of good humour and gentle kindness, taking after his uncle far more than his father, or whomever it was that once raised him before A-Zhan found him ill and abandoned (Qiren had his theories, ones he refused to entertain, not wishing his treatment of the child to be tainted by suspicions).

He bowed to both the Seniors before launching into his explanation, “Lan Jingyi and I were visiting Potter Hali with the intention of making sure he was using his incense correctly. He had expressed discomfort with how it effects him and would only use the one stick instead of the standard two. There was half a bell before curfew so we knew he would be awake. We knocked, but only heard a thump. When there was no answer, we opened the door, concerned that he may have fallen or relapsed, we were unsure but concerned. We – found Disciple Nie Libo pinning him to the floor. She was on top of him, covering his mouth, and pinning his unbroken hand to the floor. Potter Hali was struggling. Disciple Nie Libo scolded us for walking in without awaiting acknowledgement and claimed that they were busy. At this point I knocked her unconscious with a single strike, and removed Potter Hali from beneath her, and we came straight here,” he explained succinctly bowing again before falling silent.

Qihua chugged her tea again and shoved her cup at Qiren who refilled without argument.

“Disciple Potter,” Qiren prompted, causing the boy with the jade eyes to look up at him. He was shaken, and there were slowly darkening finger marks on his chin, his lower lip was even bruised. “Have you anything to add to this?” he asked.

He shook his head mutely, ducking his head down and looking away.

He looked at Jingyi who was fairly bristling with the need to add to it, “Lan Jingyi, have you anything to add to this?” he asked, mentally concluding that there would likely be a lot more.

“Yes. Disciple Nie Libo had brought food from Caiyi into the Cloud Recesses, along with alcohol. Her breath stinks of it, Senior Qiren. They're still in Potter Hali's room.”

“And you are sure they are not his own?” Lan Sujing questioned, her low melodic voice filling the air for the first time since she came in.

Jingyi nodded rapidly, “Potter Hali is respectful of our rules. He also has no token to leave the Cloud Recesses and could not have gone. We have also all heard him say repeatedly that he does not like alcohol.”

She nodded, accepting his words as truth.

“Young Master Potter, let me see your arm,” Qihua demanded, getting to her feet and crossing the room. It did not escape Qiren's notice that A-Yuan tensed as she did so, watching her with sharp grey eyes as she knelt in front of the black clad boy who silently let her examine the finger-marks that stood out stark and livid on his snow white wrist.

He looked to Lan Sujing, stroking his beard, “This is concerning. What could drive Disciple Nie Libo into committing such an action?” he asked darkly. There had been a few minor complaints in the time that she had been with them, boisterous and inappropriate comments, standard fair for an individual of the Nie clan male or female. Unlike with other clans, the Nie didn't hold much care with differences of gender, if their maidens could swing a hammer with any skill then they would find a home just as easily as their husbands or brothers in the forges, if she could wield a sabre then she would stand on the battlefield. There was no art or discipline barred from a woman in their clan if she proved herself capable of it. Their maidens even earned their own courtesy names instead of being given one upon her wedding day like with other clans. This was the first time that any Disciple had taken such actions, and the first time that Disciple Nie had gone so far with her behaviour.

Lan Sujing sighed, hiding her mouth behind a sleeve, “I have some ideas, but only what I have overheard from the other girls.”

He frowned unhappily to hear of the gossip rule being ignored, and the fact that this was skirting perilously close to such as well. From the frown on Lan Sujing's face, she too was aware of the line they were walking and was no happier about it than he.

Qihua had no such problem. Brusque and factual as healers were, the Zitengshi was her realm and it was one of the few places in Cloud Recesses where the majority of the rules did not count because they were counter productive to treatment and ensuring life. “It's their cultivation,” she grunted, feeding careful threads of her Qi into Young Master Potter. “Disc- Maiden Nie Libo is particularly strong in Yang energy,” she explained, distancing herself from the young girl, clearly stating that she was no longer going to be sponsoring her as a Disciple Apprentice. “Young Master Potter's circumstances mean that when he finally begins to cultivate, it is likely he will do so with Yin energy. She commented often enough that she was undesirable as a wife because of this, no man would want a wife he couldn't cultivate with.”

The boy in question glowered, and Qiren recalled their conversation several days ago regarding how his culture viewed marriage and relationships.

Lan Sujing sighed, “I will wake Disciple Nie Libo,” she muttered.

“You will not,” Lan Qiren commanded shortly. He had seen this play out many times in his life as a teacher, as a man. Typically with the roles reversed though. “Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, take Young Master Potter back to your rooms. Mark these words: From this point on, there will be no contact between him and Disciple Nie Libo. His room is not to be disturbed until the investigation is satisfied with their findings. He will stay with one of you for now.”

His students bowed, “Yes Senior Lan Qiren,” they chorused, with Young Master Potter bowing slightly belatedly, still silent.

He nodded, “Go. It is past curfew.”

The three teenagers got to their feet, A-Yuan hovering carefully next to Young Master Potter as they left.

He sighed and sipped his tea, eyeing his clan members, Qihua glaring furiously at her tea while Sujing pursed her lips with great unhappiness.

He hated teenagers, he concluded again, before they moved to wake Maiden Nie Libo.

* * *

Lan Yuan did not consider himself an angry person. He did not _like_ feeling angry. It made his chest and stomach hurt and his head buzz and ache. He did not like being angry.

It felt like he was trying to swallow back a tide as he guided Potter Hari back to their rooms in the clan compound, it was set slightly apart from the visiting Disciples' dormitories but given their ages it was close enough, it was also dark. All of their clansmen already asleep save for those few who were returning from night-hunts. They did not comment though, upon seeing the First and Second Disciples looking so furious as they escorted a visiting disciple into their space, despite the rules against gossiping, there wasn't a Senior in Cloud Recesses who was not aware of the brewing situation between their First Disciple and the two visiting disciples. It looked as though the situation had been brought to a head that evening, and thankfully they were respectful enough not to pry.

There would be little chance of their classmates not doing so tomorrow through.

Lan Yuan pushed the thought aside in order to swallow his anger once again at even _thinking_ about the situation as he wordlessly guided Potter Hari into his room. There was no need to even discuss it with Jingyi, his friend knew there would be no separating him when he was this worked up.

Lan Yuan's room was a little smaller than Potter Hari's, materialism was not encouraged in the clan, but what things he did have he held precious. Under other circumstances, it would have been exciting to have Potter Hari in his room, he would have been thrilled. As it was, he wished for _anything_ but this as he reached into his closet to retrieve a set of sleeping robes for him.

The water he had drawn to bathe with before bed that evening was still there, though it had cooled considerably into something cool and slightly tepid. It was still clean so he gently steered Potter Hari over, and setting his robes to one side to be changed into when he was done. “I will wait outside for you to finish,” he promised quietly, “No one will come in.”

Potter Hari nodded, shuddering a little and Lan Yuan left his own bedroom and took several deep breaths as he leaned against the wall outside, his stomach twisting and aching with anger and helplessness and something ugly that shamed him, jealousy. Jealousy that Disciple Nie Libo had been brave enough to make her feelings known, and disgust at himself for _being_ jealous of it after seeing how shaken and upset Potter Hari had been. He had been firm in his words when he spoke about how his people did not marry for reasons outside of love, not anymore. That they had fought for that freedom. He imagined that Potter Hari had been made at least a little aware that things were not that.... kind here. Disciple Nie Libo wanted a cultivation partner, even if she had to use force to obtain him.

The door slid open, “I'm done,” Potter Hari whispered, stepping aside to let him in.

He glowed in the pale candle light wearing Lan Yuan's white sleeping robe. It was too large for him, hanging off his shoulders and trailing past his fingers to pool on the floor. His hair was down, but so was his face, staring down at the floor. And he couldn't find it in himself to get excited about this view, not right now.

“Take the bed, Potter Hali,” he soothed, gently guiding him back inside. He left him there to get washed and changed himself, hand lingering on his headband before blushing furiously and leaving it on. That was – too soon. Much too soon. And – Potter Hari wouldn't understand. Lan Yuan didn't want to take advantage of his naivety the way that Disciple Nie Libo had done, the very idea of it turned his stomach with furious disgust as he finished scrubbing and rinsing himself. He dressed and stepped out, heading to the cupboards to fetch his qiankun bag where he kept his camping blankets.

“What are you doing?” Potter Hari whispered quietly from where he had been sat silently on the bed.

“I will sleep on the floor. After tonight I didn't think you'd be comfortable – ”

Potter Hari caught his hand, “I have no doubts about you, A-Zhui. You have never made me feel uncomfortable. We can share, we're both mature enough that it won't be a problem,” he stated tiredly, “I don't want to turf you out of your own bed.”

Lan Yuan sighed, he was weak. So weak.

“Alright.”

They went to bed, Lan Yuan taking the wall so as to give Potter Hari as much space as he needed to get away from him if he needed, and, despite the excitement of the day, his body dropped into sleep just as easily as it did every night. Whether he wanted it to or not.

Waking up was a form of sweet torture though as he stirred at their customary fifth bell to find that he had rolled over in the night and pulled Potter Hari into his arms, the older boy still sleeping sweetly pliant and soft against him. He didn't want to get up, he wanted to let Potter Hari sleep as long as he wanted but.... he could already hear his clansmen stirring in the other rooms, the sound of them getting to their feet, the soft murmuring of voices in the hall, the occasional twang of a guqin or other instrument as they gathered their belongings for morning lessons.

He sighed quietly and ducked his head down, pressing his forehead against Potter Hari's.

He would have to wait to enjoy this. A few years at least, until Potter Hari knew his feelings and returned them, until they were old enough to be wed if that was what he wished. Lan Yuan knew that not all love stories worked out, Hanguang-Jun being one such example that everyone carefully did not mention. Especially not to him. Lan Yuan assumed that his mother.... or his father perhaps.... had been someone that Hanguang-Jun had loved very, very much. Enough so that upon their deaths, he took their only child to raise as his own with all the love he had been unable to give to that person.

Gently, he shook the older boy awake, “It is time for breakfast and lessons, Potter Hali, come on,” he murmured, watching and burning it into his mind as Potter Hari scrunched his face up, inhaling deeply, and blinked himself awake with a dazed look of disgruntlement on his face at being roused. A look he dearly wanted to kiss away but didn't _dare_. He only smiled in good humour as Hari squinted at him, and then groaned.

“Fifth bell. A-Zhui, why would you do this to me?” he asked roughly, turning to bury his face into his pillow as Lan Yuan laughed.

“Because you have to stay with me for now. And I can't skip morning lessons to lie in bed for half the day,” he teased playfully, giving him small insistent nudges.

Thankfully, unlike Jingyi who could be as hard to wake as a rock if he were roused before he was good and ready, Potter Hari was a lot quicker and more reasonable. Only a token protest and a few nudges and he was wriggling out of the bed with a yawn, already in better spirits and temperament than he had been last night, enough so that Lan Yuan did not feel guilty or ashamed at all by the way his mouth went dry as he realised all over again that Potter Hari was in _his_ sleep robe. His long hair was sleep-mussed, hanging down his back and shoulders, framing his face, in the white of his sleeping robe the bruises looked worse when he turned around. Enough so that Lan Yuan's stomach twisted with anger all over again to see the marks that girl left on him.

He got up, “I think I have a robe closer to your size you can borrow until you can get your own back,” he said as he headed for his closets. He usually returned clothes that were too small to the seamstress so that they could be presented to his younger clansmen but might have a robe from before a prior growth spurt. He rummaged in the back where eventually he found it folded away neatly in a box. “Here, it will probably be a little big, but at least it won't be several inches too big,” he said with a chuckle as he presented the box.

Potter Hari smiled at him, “Thanks. I'll go change, tell me when you're finished,” he said, disappearing behind the privacy screen that he half wanted to peer behind. He shoved the thought aside in favour of dressing quickly and combing his hair before putting it back up and retying his headband.

“I'm decent,” he announced and heard Potter Hari laugh.

“I know you're decent, but are you dressed?” he teased, and Lan Yuan felt himself flush even as he grinned a little foolishly.

“I am,” he said, grinning as Hari stepped out from the privacy screen in his old robes, they were not the traditional snow white but rather a warmer cream colour. If he recalled, Hanguang-Jun obtained them on his travels as a gift that he could not refuse, and so decided to pass them to Lan Yuan as a gift for successfully mastering the first of his guqin techniques. The warmer cream colour coupled with the snow white belt and under-robe made him look a lot less sickly, but no less delicate. His hair was also down, and in his hands was a somewhat ugly spring green ribbon. It was the same one he had worn in his hair since he left the Zitengshi after his final acupuncture treatment, Lan Yuan had wanted to offer a ribbon of a different shade of green on more than one occasion. A shade that would actually match or compliment his lovely jade coloured eyes. But could never find the right words to offer. And besides, he might have liked the colour, it was a nice colour, it just was not one that Lan Yuan would have matched to him.

Something about the look on his face made him pause though and firmly pull his head away from the lovely sight in front of him.

“What is it?” he asked taking an uncertain step forward.

“I thought... this was just a spare from the Zitengshi... but I think it might have been a gift from – from her and I was too thick-skulled to realise,” he admitted, making something hard and angry and ugly flip and twist in Lan Yuan's stomach. It didn't help that Potter Hari looked upset again. “I think I might have led her on without realising it.... Do you have a spare tie or is it inappropriate? I – ” he cut himself off, his expression creasing unhappily even further.

He hated it.

“I have a few but – I'm going on a night hunt in a few days, I will get you a new one. What colour do you want?” he asked quickly as he headed to the small box that he kept what few ornaments he had. He had only a small handful of ties, white, pale blue, a black one, and a few hair ornaments, two fine silver ones that Hanguang-Jun and Zewu-Jun insisted on his having for important events, and a wooden one that Hanguang-Jun told him that he took from his home, he didn't know which family member it belonged to but it was his now all the same. Lan Yuan had never worn it, it was too precious, too delicate.

He handed him the black one. It would be lost in his hair but... it would feel less invasive, less like trying to paint him Gusu Lan colours against his will. Less like trying to stake a claim he had no right to. As lovely as Potter Hari looked in white and blue, they were not his colours, Lan Yuan knew that plainly.

“You're going on a night-hunt?” Hari asked peering up at him, and it felt suddenly like he had been punched.

“Ah. Yes. We were going to tell you yesterday evening....” he trailed off as he swallowed and – he didn't think he could look at Hari's face while telling him that they were going to be leaving him. “Turn around. I'll tie it for you,” he said, before having to take a quiet surreptitious breath because he had just stabbed himself in the foot. He was actually going to have to touch Potter Hari's hair now, pull it up. That-that was very.... if – oh..... His hands shook a little as Potter Hari obediently turned away, and he touched his hair.

It – it was so _soft_....

It looked like it should have been coarse and dry, but it felt like silk-threads beneath his fingers as he carefully gathered it up, swallowing against his dry throat as he stroked his fingers against Hari's skin, his neck, his head, fighting his desperate urge to trace the delicate pink shell of his ear with his fingertips....

“We, that is, myself and a few of the other senior Disciples are being tasked to deal with a minor disturbance in the Langya area. We shouldn't be gone for longer than a few weeks,” he promised.

It should not have been so difficult to keep his voice steady, and he should not have been so proud of himself for managing it either.

He shouldn't be falling shoe over headband for a boy either, but it was was not the problem it could have been had he been adopted by a different clan. 'A Lan will only love Once'. He might not have been a Lan by blood but as Jingyi, Senior Qiren, and even Hanguang-Jun and Xewu-Jun had told him repeatedly, he wore their headband, he followed their rules, he applied himself, and he loved them. He was a Lan in all the ways that truly mattered, he wasn't – he wasn't sure if he wanted it to matter in this instance though. He – Potter Hari.... if Potter Hari did not feel the same about him.... he did not think he could.... manage as well as Hanguang-Jun did, if this was yet another way that he was a Lan. Surely it would be better to be a little _less_ , if only in this, so that he may gracefully accept and move on from this inevitable heartbreak.

Heartbreak he seemed determined to court, he realised painfully as he finished tying Potter Hari's hair. Inviting the one his heart ached for into his room, his bed, his clothing, and his arms.... he was only going to hurt himself by acting this way.

He pulled his hands away, “We should go to breakfast,” he stated, letting Hari's hair fall.

“Do you have any information on the night-hunt, what you're looking for?” Potter Hari asked as he turned around, Lan Yuan shook his head not looking at him, not seeing the look of concern warring with a red flush crawling up the older boy's cheeks.

“A single resentful ghost who curses men, but the people can't figure out where they're coming from. After last time though, it will six of us going, and we will have more than one signal flare between us,” he explained as they stepped out into the corridor, Lan Jingyi waiting for them at the end of the corridor, yawning.

He waved at them as he flanked Potter Hari, still yawning hard enough to make his eyes water. No matter how old he got, A-Yi was always going to struggle with the fifth bell wake-up, Lan Yuan concluded with fond amusement. Thankfully there was no talking during meals so despite the furore that occurred the previous evening, none of the visiting Disciples dared approach Potter Hari during breakfast. It did make it more likely that they were to be jumped ahead of morning sabre-practices though even everyone would at least wait until they were further away from the dining hall.

Zizhen was the first to approach them, his expression concerned, “Are you alright, Young Master Potter?” he asked quietly, falling into step at Lan Yuan's side with a short nod to him which was.... surprising. “There was a ruckus last night and you didn't come back. We were quite concerned,” he explained nodding over his shoulder to a few of the other visiting disciples that had been lingering with them over the last few days. Yao Yuanxun, Sun Zhongmou, Sun Wentai, and even Nie Gongzu, who was scowling thunderously.

“I heard my cousin has finally shamed herself inexcusably,” he stated, his dark eyes skimming Potter Hari's face and souring further, making Lan Yuan tense unhappily. Despite Maiden Nie Libo being the one in the wrong, it was only too easy for others to cast the blame on a clanless non-cultivator for the impropriety. Nie Gongzu shot him a dark look, “Don't get your headband in a knot, First Disciple. I know full well how powerful my cousin's Golden Core is, a non-cultivator with a broken arm and a throat thin enough to grasp in one hand would not be able to make her even stagger. If anyone would be forced into anything in that room, it would not be her,” he scoffed before glowering at Potter Hari. “On behalf of my Sect, Young Master Potter, you have my deepest apologies,” he intoned with a deep, ninety degree formal bow, hands clasped in front of him.

“Thank you, but.... Disciple Nie Libo's choices are her own. I do not believe they reflect at all on Sect Qinghe Nie. Your apologies are welcome but unnecessary,” the older boy assured him quietly with a small bow of his own.

Nie Gongzu relaxed out of his bow and smiled, it transformed what was a normally rough and blunt face into something round and cheeky, dimples creasing his cheeks, “Thank you Young Master Potter.”

“Did she really try to force herself on you, Disciple Potter?” Sun Zhongmou asked, aghast.

“Why would you _complain_ if she was?” Yao Yuanxun asked disbelievingly. “Have you _seen_ her?” he demanded, ignoring the glare that Nie Gongzu threw at him as he made a substantial cupping gesture at his chest. “You some kind of cutsleeve?”

Jingyi swelled up, ready to snap and possibly snap some fingers as well, only for Potter Hari to shrug, “I don't have a preference. Male, female, if I marry someone it'll be for them, not what's under their robes.”

“B-But what about _children?_ Heirs?” Sun Wentai spluttered.

Potter Hari blinked at them, “Adoption is a thing that exists. There's also surrogacy if you don't have a Golden Core – that's when you pay a woman to carry the child for you and sign over all of her parental rights when the pregnancy is done with. But if you _have_ a Golden Core there's a few options, mostly involving potions. If you adopt a child, you can use a certain potion and a minor ritual to essentially _add_ your genetics to said child, basically giving them a third or fourth parent, or replacing the original parents if you so choose. Then there's the more complicated and unpleasant one which will let you conceive no matter what gender you are.”

They stopped and gaped at him.

“That's – a _man can get pregnant?_ ” Zizhen whispered.

Potter Hari nodded. “Two men. Two women. A barren woman too. A man who has had his manhood removed. A woman who doesn't wish to carry the child and her husband who is willing to do so in her place. All possible. As is choosing the sex of the child,” he added blandly.

“Even a barren woman?” Yao Yuanxun echoed, something fragile and painful on his face. Lan Yuan looked away, recalling some of the more shameless gossip that had reached his ears about how his older sister had been stricken with a horrible illness that robbed her of her ability to have children – and thus rendered her unmarriageable and heartbroken.

Potter Hari nodded, “It would actually be easier for them. They would have much fewer of the negative side effects of the pregnancy.”

“How do you know this?” Sun Zhongmou asked warily.

The Outlander scratched his forehead, “There's a whole three chapters on the subject in one of my potion texts as well as instructions on how to brew it. The book is all about regrowing lost limbs and internal organs. There's even a few potions to help reattach missing limbs if you can reunite them quickly enough.”

Lan Yuan coughed to interrupt them, “We're going to be late,” he reminded them gently even as internally he reeled from the information.

With potions.... with potions Hanguang-Jun really _could_ adopt him. Could make him a by-blood Lan. And – and it – he could – with Potter Hari..... His eyes flickered to the apothecary as they entered into the practice fields and Senior Lan Xiaozhi greeted Potter Hari yet again to his class, his dark eyes twinkling as he offered to take him through the basics of the sword once he had set his current class' exercises.

All of the arguments the Clan Seniors may have had against marriage were gone. He – knew that he was likely to be the next Sect Leader of the Lans', if only because Zewu-Jun didn't seem to be interested in the slightest in anyone, man or woman. And he was Hanguang-Jun's only child, and thus.... the only heir.... Unless the Clan Seniors took exception to his unknown bloodlines, but that could be corrected! He just had to _tell_ Hanguang-Jun and he knew – he knew his father would want it too. Lan Yuan may have doubted his place here in Cloud Recesses, his worthiness to wear the headband of his clan, but never _once_ had he ever doubted Hanguang-Jun's love for him. Not once.

Not even in his darkest most vulnerable doubting moments in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chunshi:** Much like the Zitengshi, this is a non-canon location. But in keeping with the naming conventions of the canon Cloud Recesses locations, this is the 'Spring' Room, and its where Lan Qiren lives.   
> **Zitengshi:** Wisteria Room, the healing halls.
> 
> I uploaded Ashes today and figured I'd be nice and save you guys from the cliffhanger I left you on the day before lol.


	11. Chapter 11

Despite what happened the night before, the day after was good.

The investigation wasn't finished with his room yet so he ended up going to bed in Sizhui's room again, he did crawl into bed with him, only this time he stayed awake long enough to feel hella awkward about it. Sizhui immediately fell asleep within twenty minutes of getting comfortable in the bed beside him, Harry had always been a bit more of a night owl even though the war kind of taught him to get sleep where he could, so he was awake when an hour later he found himself being dragged into the younger teenager's arms and – Harry felt his face go red again.

He wanted to squirm away but, that might wake him up, and Sizhui had been so kind to him already Harry didn't want to make an even bigger inconvenience of himself than he already was. And this was _nothing_ like how Disciple Nie treated him, this was wholly innocent and respectful, and completely unconscious. If anyone here was in the wrong right now, it was actually Harry himself.

Yes he hadn't been _thinking_ of the little crush he had been quietly building in the back of his mind, but it still existed, and he still stupidly opened his mouth and suggested sharing a bed with Sizhui. He hadn't _meant_ it to be suggestive, and he was so glad the younger teenager hadn't taken it as such, but now that he found himself in this position he wasn't sure if he wanted to strangle himself or thank himself because this was both very nice and absolute agony.

He smelt _really_ nice, and he was just.... really nice? Unfairly nice. And talented. He worked hard and was calm and steady and sweet and thoughtful. Really, Harry was actually a little doomed the moment he realised that the taller boy was actively looking out for Xuanyu and being nice to him despite his wild behaviour. He put himself in the firing line to protect _Harry_ , no one did that, not even Ron or Hermione. Dumbledore did once but.... that was purely because it wasn't yet time to offer him up upon the sacrificial alter of destiny. No one tried to put themselves between Harry and whatever was trying to harm him, no one tried to pull him out of the way, protect him. They supported him, they fought with him, but that was it.

Harry was supposed to be the strong one, the protector, the shield and spear all at once. The one who pulled all the others behind him.

He wasn't supposed to be weak. To need protecting.

But he did.

He did. Now more than ever. But his friends forgot that. They had so much faith in them, so much hope. Harry had done the impossible so many times, on his own, they supported him but at all these pivotal points.... he had always been alone. So when it came to seeking a solution to his curse, when it came to stepping away from their world, they trusted him even as they mourned him at the same time. They saved him from his tiny cottage, from his hidden island, they gave him all the tools and support they could. They travelled across the world with him, they hunted the opening for him, and then.... they let him go. Fearing he wouldn't come back, but _hoping. Trusting._ Forgetting....

And.... Sizhui stepped in without a single flicker of hesitation, repeatedly.

Protected him when Harry had never _truly_ been protected in any way that truly mattered when he really needed it.

That – _might_ have been the first moment his heart gave that first traitorous thump for him.

And now he was in Sizhui's bed, protected again, hidden under his arm but free to leave if he wished. Protected but _free_. He wasn't trapped for his own good, he wasn't held behind walls and in darkness, he wasn't _kept_ and hidden and _held_. He could leave if he wished, he wasn't _alone_ either. Hidden away like an object in a cupboard, taken out only when useful, when needed, and put back away, out of the way, out of sight, out of mind.

His breath shuddered as he ducked his head, pushing those thoughts away. He didn't want to remember the Dursleys here, didn't want to remember the Order, the Ministry.

He didn't want to remember anything right now. But he was going to whether he liked it or not as he slipped into sleep, and the nightmares that waited for him behind his eyelids.

Dreams and memories of being in his cupboard behind bars, slowly shrinking and starving, the Weasley twins saying that they would break him out in the summer holidays, Ron promising that he would open the door when it was safe, Hermione telling him that Professor Dumbledore was only trying to protect him, Remus saying nothing, just smiling and walking away. Sirius was the only one to try and open the doors, his fingers scratching and bleeding on the metal as he swore again and again that he would save him, that he didn't have to stay there anymore, only for tattered silvery white gauze to grab his ankles and drag him away into whispering darkness as he laughed and promised James that he would protect him until the shadows swallowed him whole. Until Voldemort's voice whispered in his ears that he was little more than Dumbledore's puppet, locked away in the cupboard, until he needed to dance a tune. And then he was Pinocchio on a stage, looking up as Dumbledore and Fudge and Scrimgeour fought and argued over who held his strings, and all the while the wizards and witches in the crowd screamed at him and the stage twisted and writhed into bars and a sign that read 'FREAKSHOW' appeared beneath him. Dudley laughed and pointed at him, rattling the bars, and was swallowed by a dementor –

He woke with a jolt and a gasp.

“Shhh, it was just a bad dream,” Sizhui's voice rasped quietly in the dark, Harry shuddered, panting from the aftershocks, feeling his hair being stroked. He – he was on top of – he wiped his face, _mortified_ to find it wet. “You're okay. It was just a bad dream,” Sizhui continued to sooth, his hand warm at the small of Harry's back as he stroked his hair.

“M'sorry,” he whispered.

Sizhui gave him a small squeeze, “Go back to sleep. There's a few more bells before we have to wake.”

Now he just felt worse.

“Sorry....”

Sizhui dug a hand into his hair, rubbing the back of his head and sighed deeply before pulling him up his body slightly so his head could tuck into the side of his neck. “Go to sleep, A-Li.... You'll feel better in the morning,” he whispered gently before humming quietly, the sound echoing through the air in the tiny space between them, warm and soothing. Harry closed his eyes, feeling his body going lax, that was Rest. He recognised it from the many times it had been played for him in the Zitengshi.....

He slipped into sleep again, Sizhui's arms around him, and was unbothered by nightmares until morning.

Annoyingly he woke before the fifth bell, but not far away from it he could tell, the light just creeping into the room was still that little bit too dim. He was still on top of Sizhui, the two of them slotted together comfortably beneath the covers, faces turned to one another. Harry could feel his breath against his forehead and ear, the pressure of his cheek and jaw against his forehead, he could feel his hands, one at his back, broad and warm, fingertips hooked in the loose sleeping robe, the other on his thigh, fingers curled around to pull him closer.

This was probably exactly the kind of sleeping position that would make his friend's head explode if he realised he had gotten so handsy with Harry in his sleep. He had better find a less.... suggestive position, or better yet just get up completely.

Shifting his arms carefully, he tried to pull his leg free and his body up at the same time so he could climb over him out of the bed. That did not happen. Sizhui frowned slightly in his sleep, nose twitching, before it suddenly felt like there were iron bands where his hands were, forcing him back down. He rolled them to the wall and Harry's broken arm gave a warning twinge that forced him to crumple or risk re-breaking it with their combined weight. His grip tightened on the sleep robe and Harry grunted a little as it pulled on his other shoulder until he lowered it and let the fabric pull free. Great. Now he was half naked. Kind of. Enough for Ancient Chinese society to get bent out of shape over it.

He blew a strand of hair from his face and pondered how to get out of this, grunting a little when Sizhui tightened his grip and hiked his leg up even higher and – oh no, this was definitely getting a little too racy for Harry's appreciation right now. Especially when the other party was asleep.

He kicked his leg carefully to try and tug himself free, and winced when Sizhui's fingers dug in and his grip tightened.

That would actually leave a bruise, ow, ow, okay, no, time to wake up.

“A-Zhui, time to wake up,” he said, his voice unnaturally loud in the room despite the fact that he was trying to keep it down due to the fact it was probably still half a bell before the fifth, and their neighbours were probably sleeping. Sizhui grumbled and tightened his grip which, _ooow_ , Harry pinched him, “Wakie wakie!” he demanded firmly.

And was extremely gratified when the chinese boy's eyes snapped open in bleary confusion, and his grip _finally_ relaxed.

“What?” he rasped in confusion.

Harry patted his shoulder awkwardly, “Could you – let me go please?” he asked, “You're hurting my leg a little.”

There was a small pause and he felt Sizhui's hand flatten out on his leg for a moment, smoothing across the soft fabric of the sleep robe before he realised just _where_ he was holding and went beet red, yanking both of his arms away and practically scrambling out of the bed.

Harry laughed as he sat up, swiping the blanket that had been thrown off onto his head away, “I haven't seen a reaction that good since Hermione woke Ron up when we were in school,” he laughed, completely unaware of the vision he made to poor Sizhui sat on his bed with his borrowed sleeping robe gaping open, sliding off one shoulder, his loose hair in messy waves down his back and over his shoulders as he laughed. “All that was missing was the maidenly shriek,” he teased playfully as he stretched.

Sizhui whimpered, hiding his face in both of his hands, even his _ears_ were red. That was unexpectedly adorable.

He laughed, having to cover his mouth and try to smother it if he didn't want to wake up their neighbours as he climbed out of the bed, his leg felt a little tender but it was nothing he couldn't handle, “There there, a-Zhui,” he soothed, reaching up and patting the top of his head, “You're alright. I promise I didn't do anything nefarious to you. Your virtue is safe,” he couldn't help but tease, if only to hear the pained groan from the taller boy as his whole body slumped. He badly smothered another laugh, “You're fine, A-Zhui. I'm not angry. It was a nice cuddle until the squeezing started. You've got a really strong grip. Must be all those handstands,” he mused, patting his arm again before turning to make the bed as he'd seen him do the previous day.

It _had_ been a nice cuddle. Harry had experienced so few of them that each one was a very clear memory and Sizhui's was one of the better ones, right up there with Luna, Charlie, and Mrs Weasley's hugs. Hermione came in a good second, with Ginny at third. He would have felt bad about putting his ex-girlfriend in third but she _wriggled_ and had almost as many sharp edges as Harry himself did. Hugs and kisses and making out was one thing, cuddling was prolonged and Ginny was bad at it.

“I am – _so_ sorry, Young Master Potter,” Sizhui whispered miserably, “I will go and ask for punishment I can't believe I – ”

Harry whipped around in alarm, “Hey, no, wait, there's no need for that!” he protested, grabbing the taller boy's hand. “Sizhui you were asleep. There's no need for punishment, I promise.”

He shook his head mutely, refusing to look him in the eye, twisting and fraying his sleeve miserably between his fingers. “I laid inappropriate hands on you while you were sleeping. After what happened with Disciple Nie – ”

Harry scoffed, “ _Oh pish_.” Wow, really channelling his inner Brit there, he blamed Andromeda. “It was completely different and you know it. Come here,” he commanded, pointedly lifting one of Sizhui's arms. There was a split second where he resisted and it felt like trying to lift a rock, but eventually he relaxed enough to do as Harry wished, giving him the chance to duck under and wrap his arms around his chest. “In case it has escaped your notice, First Disciple Lan Sizhui, but you are nothing like Disciple Nie Libo in both personality, behaviour, and your treatment of others. Even the way you touch me is different. I have never felt threatened or uncomfortable around you because I know that nothing is meant with malice or expectation. I can hug you when you're upset and know that it is just a hug, and that any offer of comfort I give you is not an expectation of more,” he explained gently, quietly wondering how the hell Hermione managed to navigate this messy emotions thing before Harry and Ron grew the hell up and gained some emotional maturity of their own. He had been forced to get good at explaining his feelings and thoughts while taking care of Xuanyu who had one of the worst cases of anxiety and depression Harry had encountered, the poor man second, third, and fourth guessed absolutely everything from the smallest gestures and often purposefully forced himself to misunderstand things because he was used to things being distressing and if they weren't he didn't understand them properly and that was scarier.

“You respect the people around you, and you are kind. There is no need for punishment over an honest mistake between the two of us that I have already forgiven, alright?” he asked, leaning back slightly to look him in the eye.

If he had been red before, he was _crimson_ now.

Harry chuckled and drew Sizhui's head down to rest on his shoulder, like he would have done when Xuanyu was teary and overwhelmed and didn't know what to do. The arms and hands that wrapped around him were different, larger and stronger, but the situation was familiar enough for Harry to gently start swaying them as he stroked the chinese boy's hair until he calmed down.

The fifth bell chimed softly in the pre-dawn growing light, and Sizhui inhaled slowly against his neck, giving him a small squeeze before he stepped backwards and cleared his throat.

“They should have finished cleaning your robes last night,” he said stiffly, ears still glowing pink as he quickly headed to the door. Harry snickered a little at his retreating back. With everyone being so much taller than him, disciplined and mature, it was hard to remember that they were all younger, at least until moments like this. He smiled fondly as he tugged the shoulder of his borrowed robe back up and Sizhui came back in with a wicker basket under one arm, a pink blush racing across his face when he caught sight of the grin on his face. “Here. They are clean,” he said, presenting the basket.

“Thank you.” Harry took the basket and retreated behind the privacy screens to give Sizhui a chance to gather himself and calm down, grinning down into his basket of clothing only to freeze and hit himself. No, Potter, do not go down this road. This way only lies heartbreak. Take a step back. Sizhui is young, and emotionally vulnerable to positive feedback. This isn't like with Cho or Ginny. The chances of Sizhui ever having interacted with someone or having a crush on someone were slim, the chances of him ever having a conversation on the subject were also slim given the Cloud Recesses nature. He needed to take a step back before he lead the younger boy into something that might get him into trouble here. It was quite clear that homosexuality was not accepted, even less so than back home outside the wizarding world.

He combed his hair, pulled it back with the black cord he had been lent, and dressed in his old school robes, they smelt like rice milk and green tea. Hm..... he had put on some weight apparently? They were getting a little tight across the shoulders.....

These were from his sixth year, before they had to flee the school or risk Voldemort coming down on their heads. It was a little annoying to realise that it took him until he was eighteen to even begin to start outgrowing them. Was he forever going to be a scrawny short-arse?

He sighed a little and settled in to wait until Sizhui told him it was alright to come out, idly wondering when the next full moon was. His bi-monthly potion delivery should be soon, Fawkes only delivered on the full moon because it was the only for certain period of time that they could be sure would match up. Time-zones and calenders and what not. It would bring letters from home too, last he heard Malfoy had pitched a fit over his absence and had been looking for him, according to Ginny it was kind of pathetic how desperate and messy he was doing it too. If he ever _did_ manage to find Harry there was very little doubt in their minds that he would bring the entirety of the Death Eater remnants down on his head in the process. Teddy was apparently able to sit up on his own now and had even concluded that his favourite colour was teal and everything had to match or there would be tears. Hermione managed to ram through the first of her legislation regarding House-Elf protection laws, 'Dobby's Law' she named it, and he remembered his heart giving a painful squeeze.

“I'm ready, shall we head to breakfast?” Sizhui's voice called, prompting Harry to shake his thoughts off and get to his feet.

“Sure.”

He was back to some kind of emotional equilibrium, smiling gently and calmly as he held his sword and the door open for Harry to step out first, as well put together as he always was in spotless pure white robes. He smiled at Jingyi when they ran into him in the corridor, the shorter (but still taller than Harry, fuck him) boy pausing mid-yawn to squint at his friend before grunting something along the lines of 'tell me later' before falling into step with them as they headed for the dining hall.

After medicine and eating, they headed to the Lanshi where the first classes of the day would be held. Lan Qiren pulled Harry aside before everyone sat down to tell him that the investigation was finished with his room and he was free to return. The food and alcohol had been confiscated, but nothing else had been touched. Harry nodded and bowed to him in gratitude before finding his space next to Sizhui in the room, Senior Lan Qiren set about the lesson, instructing the other boys and then quietly providing guidance to Harry in beginner information on the differences of Fae, Demons, Ghosts, and Monsters. Harry was somewhat surprised to find that on technicalities that ghouls and zombies fell under the Ghost category because they were formed from dead humans, while demons came from living humans.

It made him wonder, what category would Dementors fall under? According to this, Fluffy the Cerberus would be a Fae, but something like say a Boggart would be difficult to measure, was it a Fae? No one knew what a Boggart looked like when it wasn't transformed except Mad-Eye, who was long dead and never thought to share, unless it transformed even for him while he was spying on it – did it turn into a tiny version of his fear, or was his fear more of a concept than an actual thing?

They finished with lessons and went to lunch, after that Harry was to split away from them and join the young children for their reading and writing lessons while the Lan students attended their guqin practice and the visiting Disciples were given a free afternoon. Ostensibly to practice their own clan's unique disciplines, but in practice, to goof off.

Harry was somewhat dismayed to find himself acting as more of a babysitter than a student but couldn't begrudge the young man who was attempting to teach the children. Apparently their usual teacher had been injured in the recent night-hunt and was in confinement until they were sure he wasn't ill, he – honestly, he was not a teacher, but a library scribe and attendant. He didn't know how to teach, or even to handle children.

It was still an informative lesson, Harry learnt a lot by just helping to guide the children in their own learning while their teacher, Lan Xunyan, stumbled through teaching them basic stroke order and sentence structure. Harry eventually got it, it took having to think of it as more of a maths formula than an actual language, but he got it eventually. There were a few tears, and Harry got some very nice cuddles from very little people as he gathered up some of the upset little ones into his arms, heart aching when he thought of what he was missing with Teddy but firmly pushing the thought aside. He had upset himself enough last night to have nightmares, he didn't particularly want a repeat. He was fairly sure the only reason he hadn't had any of his more usual _screaming_ nightmares was because of the incense that was burnt for him.

They left the lesson a few bells before dinner, but with Jingyi and Sizhui still in lessons, Harry opted to stay with the little ones and keep an eye on them for Lan Xunyan who was clearly in over his head and had no idea what to do despite the fact there were only five or six little boys in his class. Eventually, and Harry didn't know how or when it occurred, they ended up in Hanguang-Jun's rabbit field, and Harry was the only one over four foot present – Lan Xunyan telling him that he was going to inform the childrens' caretaker where they were so they could be found again later, and then he just.... _didn't come back_.

Harry taught the children how to stay still and calm and let the rabbits come over to them, how to comfortably hold them and stroke them. To never hold them by the ears because it would hurt an awful lot, do you like being pulled around by your ears or your hair? No? Well then we shouldn't do it to others, should we? It was quite sweet how they took to the fluffy little things, and the rabbits were familiar enough with little hands that they didn't skitter away in panic. The children were gentle and respectful as well which was a massive relief, he didn't think he would be able to handle it if he had to punish them for being hurtful to an animal. He didn't know what an appropriate punishment for a child this age was – not in the Cloud Recesses. Harry would have been given such a smacked bottom, a clip around the ear, and a week in the cupboard without food. But he would never do that to a child, time out most definitely but not a week, and maybe only dessert withheld, ah no, they didn't do dessert in Cloud Recesses.... maybe lines? Write out the rules about respect and care for others? And... and be forced to take care of the rabbits under supervision for a week so that they would have to take responsibility for their actions?

He shook his head, why was he thinking about this?

“Senior Lili,” one little boy chimed, a handful of flowers pulled from just beyond the fence, “Are these safe for the bunnies to eat?” he asked eagerly. None of the little ones were able to pronounce his name, so he gave them special permission to call him Lili.

He took the offerings with all seriousness, “The grasses and the dandelions are safe, bunnies love dandelions. These yellows flowers here. I don't know how they're called in your language but we call then dandelions because they look like a lion's mane. The clover here is good too. This grass too. I'm not familiar with this plant so we had better not, just in case,” he listed as he carefully returned several of the rather mauled offerings back to their chubby hands that ripped them up and pocketed the ones he wasn't sure were safe.

The little boy, Lan Ming, nodded eagerly and crouched down with his hands open for the small gathering of rabbits that were already puddling at his shins in the hope of treats.

One of the other little boys, Lan Feng, shuffled over, rubbing his eyes. “I'm cold,” he complained unhappily.

“Well, that's easily solved. Come here A-Feng. You can sit with me and I'll keep you warm, how's that?” he offered, shifting and letting the four year old crawl into his lap and curl up under his arm. Harry shifted the edge of his robe to wrap around him a little more securely and grinned a little when the child opened his arms for one of the rabbits to climb in with him.

He looked up to make sure the rest of the children were alright and froze, blood chilling, when he spotted Disciple Nie Libo at the fence. She was wearing the Lan clan white robes, her hair in an uncustomary bun and she had a white head ribbon that was a slightly off colour to the actual headbands worn, but it was close enough that absolutely _no one_ would look twice at her from a distance.

“Senior Lili!!” a little voice screeched, and he blinked. She was gone. He swallowed nervously, had he been mistaken? “Senior Lili!” the voice cried again and he looked over to see that little Lan Shu had fallen over and was now being crawled all over by bunnies, and quite distressed by it, “They're going to eat meeee!!” he wailed tearfully, frozen in place.

Harry adjusted his grip on A-Feng and got to his feet, quickly heading over and shooing the rabbits off the little boy, “Bunnies don't eat little boys, I promise,” he soothed with a chuckle once the child was freed. He scooped him up into his other arm and sat him down on his leg, focusing on the children rather than his own paranoia. It was probably just a passing Lan clan member and his eyes were playing tricks on him.

He pushed the paranoia aside as he began to teach the children about the rabbits again, feeling the other four boys come up to join him, as he showed them the bunny's teeth on the big grumpy white one who seemed to have an endless well of patience for the gentle prodding Harry subjected it to. Carefully pulling back his lips to show the children his teeth, showing them his paws, and explaining about how bunny teeth were for getting at roots and other tough things that their little feet dug up. Then he started explaining about where the eyes were placed in their head and why it was important for prey animals to have a wider field of vision, especially bunnies who were very small and soft. Lots of things would like to eat them, that was why they ran so fast and could kick really hard, and hid away underground. But they were safe here in Cloud Recesses and that was why they were allowed to play and stroke them – but if they were ever mean to them then the bunnies would all go away and hide from them, and that would make Hanguang-Jun very sad because he liked them very much.

All of their little faces were immediately stricken at the thought of making Hanguang-Jun sad and Harry laughed, reassuring them that they all knew they were good boys, and that was why they were allowed in the field.

“I don't remember letting them in the field,” Sizhui's voice mused playfully from above them at the fence. Harry craned his head back to grin at the Senior Disciples clustered behind him, watching with grins of amusement as all their tiny Juniors chorused their adorable greetings and tried to bow respectfully – little Lan Ming almost dropping the very patient rabbit he had been holding when he did so. She didn't much like that and wriggled her way free to hop off, making the little boy over balance and fall over. “But you are very right, they're definitely well behaved enough to visit Hanguang-Jun's bunnies with permission from a Senior,” the First Disciple agreed kindly as Lan Shu hid his face in Harry's robe.

“Hey,” Jingyi asked as he vaulted over the fence and crouched down to gather his own armful of fluffy bunny, “Where's their caretaker? You're not here alone are you?” he asked, suddenly worried.

Harry grimaced, “Senior Lan Xunyan went to inform their caretaker where they would be after lessons. I'm – not sure where he is now. He was only a substitute as their other teacher is in the Zitengshi for now. Perhaps someone from the library called him back,” he suggested with a small shrug as Lan Feng climbed out of his lap to go and run up to Lan Kongming. Harry blinked, surprised and delighted to realise that they were brothers.

Sizhui frowned unhappily at that, but wasn't able to say anything as the little horde of baby Juniors began to cluster up and beg their Seniors to play with them, look at this bunny he's got a heart on his nose, there's a rock over there with a lizard on it you have to come see it with me, look at this poop I found it over –

“A-Fei! We do not play with poop!” Harry yelped, horrified as he jumped to his feet and quickly handed Lan Shu to Sizhui, “Watch them while I deal with this. Come here A-Fei, no don't put it in your mouth! That's gross! Come on, time to wash your hands! You can play in the dirt but not poop, absolutely not,” he scolded as he scooped the dirty child up and marched him to the nearest stream to wash his hands, arguing as reasonably as he could with the four year old about why he couldn't play with poop, remaining stalwart even in the face of the heaving wails and tears his refusal garnered.

Jingyi snickered as he walked away, sidling up to Sizhui, “Hey, Cloud For Brains, you enjoying a glimpse of your future?” he asked slyly in an undertone as the rest of the Senior Disciples found themselves with a self-assigned baby determined to tell them everything. Even Jingyi had a little one attached to his sleeve, a quiet little boy wearing the clan clouds on his little headband, his chubby little face set in an unhappy pout.

“Yes,” Lan Yuan croaked, staring after the black clad Disciple as if he'd been clipped in the head with a pan, before clearing his throat and smiling sheepishly at his friend, “I mean – ”

Jingyi cackled, “Don't even try it,” he retorted, reaching down and scooping up little Lan Huang, “What do _you_ think of him?” he asked the little boy who willingly latched onto his robes with tight fingers.

“Senior Lili is nice,” he concluded seriously, “A-Huang wants to marry Senior Lili _and_ A-Fei,” he informed them.

“You've got stiff competition, A-Zhui,” Kongming teased in an undertone, his little brother perched on his shoulders, hands yanking ruthlessly on his hair to try and make him go back to the other side of the field because there was a thing in the tree they had to look at. Lan Feng was being easily ignored, his tiny strength barely even a tickle on his brother's scalp.

Jingyi's smirk was a little mean, but mainly teasing, “Gunna have to get in there quick.”

Sizhui looked down at Lan Shu in his arms, feeling his cheeks beginning to flush, “I don't think that – ”

Lan Fei came sprinting over, crashing into Jingyi's shins and tangling wet hands in his robe, “Senior Lili told me to get you! He said that Maiden Nie Libo is here!” he exclaimed, grinning excitedly, completely ignorant to the horrible news he just dropped on them.

Jingyi snatched Lan Shu with one arm, “Go!” he commanded, drawing the child against him quickly as Sizhui bolted towards the river where A-Hari should have been.

Potter Hari was fine, he was also alone.

“Are you alright?” he asked, landing beside him gripping his sword nervously as he looked around for any sign of her dark robe.

He nodded slowly, “She just spoke. She stayed on the otherside of the stream. I saw her earlier but thought – my eyes had to be playing tricks on me,” he admitted in a daze before shaking himself and looking at him, “Knowing that your Sect Leader is sworn brothers with her own, what are the chances she'll _actually_ be sent home, A-Zhui?” he asked flatly, his eyes hard in a way that made something hard settle in his stomach and then sink down to his toes.

“Senior Lili!!” several little voices cried as the rest of the Senior Disciples arrives, babies in arm, swords in hand.

“Where is she?! I'll shear her bald and throw her off the mountain myself for shaming our clan like this!!” Nie Gongzu snarled, somehow still managing to look threatening with Lan Ming clinging to his neck as he looked around furiously for his cousin.

Harry shook his head, “She left as soon as she heard Sizhui coming,” he admitted, glancing up the way she obviously went. “She was wearing Lan robes. I don't – think you'll find her.”

“What does she even want with _you?_ ” Yao Yuanxun demanded, attempting to untangle himself from the clinging Lan Tong with a scowl.

“Dual Cultivation. She said I was her last chance. No one would ever marry a woman who was more of a man than he was,” he explained flatly.

“You _are_ very maidenly – OW!” Sun Zhongmou observed only to yelp when his cousin elbowed him hard in the side.

Hari shot them all a dry look of mild irritation that made something in Sizhui's stomach shrivel a little to realise that he was actually a little insulted by that comment, he opened his mouth to retort only to shake his head and look away, “Not worth it,” he muttered, making Zhongmou go pink with embarrassment.

“Well its _true,_ ” Zhongmou whined under his breath, and was ignored.

“Is Senior Lili gunna be okay?” Lan Shu asked from Jingyi's arms.

Hari shook himself and smiled at him, turning away from the stream to go and collect him out of the Second Disciple's grasp, “I'll be perfectly alright, A-Shu. Look at all the brave Seniors I'm friends with, they'll definitely keep the naughty rule-breaking Maiden Libo away from me.”

Lan Shu's eyes went wide, and even Lan Huang's as well, “She's a _rulebreaker?!_ ” the little boy demanded.

“You can't break the rules. It's not allowed,” Lan Huang objected, upset and offended in equal measure.

Lan Fei latched onto his robes, “But – but Seniors can't be there all the time! You have classes!” He pouted and then nodded before darting to Jingyi, “A-Huang! A-Huang! We gots'ta bring our swords now!” he proclaimed seriously.

Lan Feng flung himself off his brother, tumbling into the Senior Disciple's arms, “Yeah! We'll protect Senior Lili when Dage and First Disciple can't be here!!” he exclaimed eagerly, “Oh but – fighting isn't allowed in Cloud Recesses,” he pointed out uncertainly.

“Is defence for Senior Lili,” Lan Huang pointed out. “Maiden Nie is a Senior Disciple, Senior Lili isn't a cultivator. She's breaking rules. We have to uphold justice,” the serious little boy quoted firmly as he wriggled pointedly to be put down.

Harry caught sight of Yao Yuanxun practically dropping little Lan Tong away from him as the boy writhed to join the rest of his classmates, Lan Shu, Feng, Ming, Tong, and Fei all clustering together and loudly planning Harry's protection detail when their Seniors couldn't be present. He dropped his face into one hand with a quiet sigh. “Maybe I should have stayed quiet,” he muttered under his breath.

“Aww, but they're so cute,” Zizhen laughed, “Don't you _like_ all these people coming to your rescue, Senior Lili?” he asked teasingly.

Harry went red, “Okay,” he growled pointing at him, “I let the kids get away with that because they couldn't pronounce my name, but _you_ don't – ”

“Senior Lili! Senior Lili!” Fei cried, tugging on his robes. “We're gunna protect you from the bad lady.”

“Yes!” all of the juniors declared with great seriousness, bowing clumsily to him – little Lan Shu giggling as a bunny leaned up to snuffle at his face.

He could feel his face burning as the two Sun Disciples snickered behind him, and even Jingyi coughed politely into his sleeves, having to turn away. He sighed and returned the bow to the children who were just trying their best. He doubted there was much trouble they could get into, and if this helped to encourage them in their studies, if he spoke to their teacher and suggested using it as incentive for them to practice certain skills.... that could only be to their benefit, right? If Disciple Nie did show up though, he wasn't going to let them anywhere near her. She wasn't the violent type but.... he had been wrong about her before, and until he knew she wouldn't use the little ones against him, he didn't want them near her.

“I am in your care, Honourable Junior Disciples of Sect Lan,” he intoned tiredly, pointedly ignoring the snickering of the Senior Disciples behind him as he humoured their juniors.

Thankfully it was time for dinner by then and they only had a little difficulty getting the little ones to the dining hall (Lan Shu and Huang had to say goodbye to every single rabbit individually, and Harry had to wash Lan Fei's hands and face again). Harry ended up with a trail of ducklings as he crossed the hall, and drew an awful lot of stares – and one horrified look from Lan Xunyan who realised he had forgotten to pick up his class and return them to their caretaker. Thankfully the little ones were well behaved and knew where they had to sit for dinner, quickly heading over to their caretaker who was a friendly older cultivator with silver streaked dark hair and kindly golden eyes who thanked him serenely before turning his attention to the young ones and getting them seated, praising Lan Fei for being so clean for a change.

Harry collapsed in his seat next to Sizhui as food was brought out and they all dug in. He was starving so it didn't last long, the second bowl was still a struggle though but he eventually managed to get through it. Watching the hall in silence as the rest of the clan finished their meal, sipping on his green tea thoughtfully to wash the taste of the body tempering liquid and the pills down.

The meal was finished and everyone left, there were a few bells before the curfew though so he stuck with the Senior Disciples as they went to Zizhen's room. Everyone was laughing and joking around and telling stories about their homes and night-hunts they'd previously been on, lamenting the lack of alcohol and meat before quickly reassuring their Lan hosts that they just missed home, it wasn't a complaint about the care they received here. Then they moved onto ribbing Zizhen for his collection of poetry books, especially the _love_ poems! You cruising to seduce a maiden somewhen? As if, not with these crappy lines! Aiyah, I want to see the Maiden of Annual Blossoms though!

“Potter Hali,” Sizhui began quietly while everyone started heckling Zizhen about the Fae maiden who would only show herself if she enjoyed your poetry, “I think.... perhaps you should stay in my room until Maiden Nie is handled....” he admitted in an undertone, glancing to the others. “She knows where your room is, and if you are in there alone when she comes for you....” he trailed off unhappily.

He nodded, “If you're alright with that, I don't want to make you any _more_ uncomfortable than I already have....”

“It – is nothing, I am more concerned with you. Will you be alright with that arrangement? I know I was – ”

“Absolutely fine. You did nothing wrong, Sizhui. And thank you. Give me a few, I'll go and get my things, I'll leave enough in there so she won't get suspicious,” he said as he got to his feet and slipped out amidst heckling.

His room was cold and dark when he stepped in, the smell of rice wine lingered from the flooring where she had knocked over the clay jar of Emperor's Smile jumping on him. He grimaced a little and hurried, taking his nightclothes out from under his pillow, grabbing his soap and tooth-brush from behind the privacy screen, and his backpack with his clothes and the majority of his combat potions, which he figured he was going to have to start wearing again. Sigh.

He eyed the incense and grimaced, grabbing it against his better judgement. If it stopped him from disturbing Sizhui he could deal with it, and supposedly it was only helpful to those who had stronger Qi so he doubted it would do anything to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh bless your cottons everyone. You were all so hopeful in the last chapter that you'd heard the last of Disciple Nie Libo, I _almost_ regret posting this chapter. But not enough to not do it. Or rewrite it. There's a reason she's still kicking around, I promise.


	12. Chapter 12

Lan Yuan honestly didn't know what to make of Potter Hari's night clothing. It wasn't a robe. It was a top and a pair of trousers, soft, thick material, with strange hard fastenings going down the centre of his chest. They looked.... significantly less likely to gape open or slip, and harder to get into than the borrowed robe he had worn previously.

The problem was that despite the lack of risk of bared skin, they.... strongly highlighted the lines of his body. The length of his legs, how slim his waist was, how thin his neck and wrists and ankles were.

He even smelt different when they crawled into the bed, something sharp tickling at his nose, citrus, that made his mouth water a little despite the slow creeping waft of sandalwood incense. It was the incense that had Potter Hari... _A-Li_ asleep within moments, faster even than he. And he remained asleep, quiet and soft and small against him even as he woke several times in the night, suspicious and wary of every noise outside his window, every imaginary footstep in the corridor beyond his door.

He couldn't stop himself from drawing the apothecary against him, wary of intruders, of observers, of _her_.

If A-Li had ever once expressed a desire to go to her, he would be less worried, less disturbed by the thought of Maiden Nie's attentions on him. But knowing how they were rejected, and how she still tried to _force_ it. To force a maiden or someone weaker than you in such a way was reprehensible, male or female, he did not understand why Yao Yuanxun and Sun Zhongmou did not see _fault_ in this where everyone else could. Even Nie Gongzu condemned his cousin's behaviour, as did Ouyang Zizhen and Sun Wentai, so he knew it was not solely a view of the Lan Sect that such things were evil. Yet Yao Yuanxun seemed to believe that because Nie Libo was female there was no reason to even refuse her if she wished for relations?

But still.

They slept and then they rose.

They ate breakfast, Lan Yuan charmed and amused by the sight of their little Juniors appearing around them, very seriously with their training swords and their breakfast, silently forming an honour-guard around their Senior Lili. Their caretaker, Lan Xixiao, smiling kindly and with great humour as he joined them. It was painfully adorable watching them all together, even the little ones were cute he decided, watching as Lan Huang fussed over dirty Lan Fei, his serious little frown as he used a napkin to wipe congee off A-Fei's cheek reminding him intensely of Hanguang-Jun in miniature.

There were a few titters amongst the Disciples and even a few of the Seniors as they broke for lessons, all the baby Juniors trailing along after their black-clad Senior Lili like fluffy white ducklings after a black crow, forming the most adorable honour-guard seen in the Cloud Recesses for many a year. Lan Yuan had to hide his amusement behind a sleeve when he caught A-Li glowering at his amusement, Jingyi made no attempt to hide his amusement and cooed in delight over their friend's circumstances.

When they were finished with their own morning readings, they headed to the Huoshi where the little ones were very diligently leading A-Li to the dining hall, still putting Lan Yuan in mind of a crow that managed to adopt a gaggle of ducklings by accident.

“Senior Lili~” Jingyi greeted playfully, raising his voice only slightly enough to be heard but not to disturb or break the rules. The baby Juniors clustered protectively around their Precious Lili, gripping his robes, hampering him more than protecting him, at least until they saw who was coming and realised it was their Seniors. The ducklings – _Juniors_ all bowed respectfully to them, while A-Li glowered at Jingyi for the nickname.

“Don't call me that, Lan Jingyi,” he sighed, only to look down at Lan Shu's large eyes as he tugged on his robe.

“You don't like being called Lili, Senior Lili?” he asked tremulously, and Lan Yuan could see the exact precious moment A-Li's resolve crumbled like frost on a spider's web.

“I – _do_ ,” he choked on the lie. Reminding Lan Yuan of his little curse, meaning that while he could, it was very difficult. Or was he telling the truth but didn't want to admit it? He softened a little and nudged Jingyi before he could gleefully call him out on that and nodded to their Juniors. Little white lies should be alright, if it made sure not to upset little ears, shouldn't it? Or if it was to protect someone's pride? Jingyi chuckled at him and rolled his eyes in amusement, making Lan Yuan blush, yes he knew he was being obvious right now but really, could he be blamed? This was too cute.

“Disciple Lili,” Nie Gongzu greeted with a respectful bow that _absolutely_ did not hide his teasing tone. A-Li glowered at him and greeted him respectfully before _pouting_. Lan Yuan had to take a deep breath and look down at the little ones clinging to his black robe in order to greet them before he thoroughly lost himself to imaginings of taking that protruding lower lip into his mouth and worrying it red, wet, and swollen between his teeth.

They went to lunch with their little honour-guard, Lan Shu ending up in A-Li's arms, head resting on his shoulder with his thumb in his mouth as he watched the world go past with large pale grey eyes. The little Juniors were corralled by Lan Xixiao for lunch, and then taken for their music lessons while the Senior Disciples all headed for sabre-practice _ribbing_ A-Li the whole way there. Lan Yuan _really_ should remind them that bullying was not permitted but.... A-Li gave as good as he got – often better actually judging by how Yao Yuanxun's mouth flapped around in open disbelief.

“You are very good with them, do you have younger siblings at home, Disciple Lili?” Lan Kongming asked curiously, scratching away a small smear of food his little brother got onto his sleeve when they bade everyone goodbye at the hall.

A-Li shook his head, “No. With the exception of my godson, I've never interacted with a child younger than eleven,” he admitted with a small sigh. “But I read a lot. I was going to adopt him after the war. I wanted to be ready but – the curse, losing my power, it was too dangerous and then it was illegal,” he sighed again, obviously upset.

“Godson?” Zizhen questioned curiously.

“Mn. It's a kind of position in a family. Your parents can name someone unrelated to them to take guardianship of you the event of their death. The godparent becomes legally responsible for you if none of their immediate family can take care of you, or want to take care of you, or if the godparent and the courts deem them unfit or unsuitable to care for a child,” A-Li explained with a bitter smile. “My father's bestfriend was named my godfather, but he wasn't allowed to raise me despite wanting to, so I went to my Aunt and Uncle. His other bestfriend married, and when they had their son, they named me his godfather. And then they died. I was going to be responsible for the baby because his grandmother couldn't – face handling a newborn after losing both her husband and her daughter in the same year. But I wasn't allowed. I had no Core, and she did, therefore, she was the de-facto guardian whether I liked it or not. Then we learned about the curse. It would have been too dangerous to have Teddy with me.”

Kongming looked sad, “But you wanted him anyway.”

A-Li nodded, smiling wryly down at the path in front of them, “Yep. From the first moment I held him. My friends drop off letters and pictures telling me how he's doing with my ingredient deliveries, but it isn't the same,” he sighed.

Jingyi elbowed him in the side, making pointed gestures with his head at A-Li, Kong-Ming and Zizhen looking amused as Lan Yuan flustered uncertainly.

“Well.... You are learning to develop your Golden Core now, perhaps when you have managed it you can return to him?” he suggested hopefully – even as his words registered and he felt his heart sink.

Jingyi slapped a palm to his forehead behind them.

“Hah,” A-Li muttered bitterly, “I'd be better off bringing him here.”

Lan Yuan swallowed in confused panic and sudden painful longing. He was too young to be a father but he didn't want A-Li leaving but the idea of a child being involved was – he – knew he wanted to be a father, just not perhaps this young?

“Huh.... I guess what they say about Lans is true,” Nie Gongzu suddenly interrupted, sounding positively enlightened.

Lan Yuan felt his blood go cold as he looked up at his classmates. Both the Sun Clan members looked confused, Yao Yuanxun confused and disgusted (he hated children), Zizhen horrified and glancing between him and Nie Gongzu who eyed him like a particularly interesting book before shrugging and carrying on into their sabre class as if nothing of note had happened. Jingyi was bristling though.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Disciple Nie Gongzu?!” he demanded, rushing after him.

Gongzu shrugged, “That the Lan clan don't give a damn about the body, they only concern themselves with matters of Heaven,” he grunted, gesturing to his chest. Lan Yuan felt his breath catch. That word, 'Heaven' was often used in connection to matters of the heart or the mind. He knew. He knew that Lan Yuan liked A-Li. But he didn't seem to care? The Nie clan boy scoffed at his face, “Do you really think the Nie Clan care either? We have more maidens in our forge than men and their biceps are bigger too,” he declared dismissively with a grin as he set his bag down.

Zizhen lit up, “There is a maiden you are thinking about!” he crowed, pointing at him.

Gongzu slapped his hand away with a smirk, “There is indeed. It's already arranged with her family. She is a year older than I so when I am a man, we will wed in the Spring. She is one of the senior forge apprentices, she beat me every time we arm-wrestled last summer,” he bragged smugly, “We will definitely have strong children, her and I.”

“But, if that's the attitude of the Nie Clan, why is Disciple Nie Libo so worried about being unmarriageable?” A-Li asked from behind them, “Why is she so set on me if your clan has no care for gender?”

The Nie Disciple grimaced, “Ah... Mmn... That is... In the war, Nie Libo lost both of her parents in the Siege of the Burial Mounds. They fought vigorously against the Yiling Patriarch but the Fierce Ghouls were too much for them. She was left to be raised by her grandmother, one of Lanling Jin Sect's former cultivators. She had.... Certain ideas about the way things should be, and was protective of her granddaughter, viewing the death of her parents as a failure on Sect Qinghe Nie's teachings. She is too Nie to be comfortable as a Jin, and too Jin to understand how to be Nie. She sits awkwardly in the middle, finding a home with neither. And it does not help that she was apprenticed under Senior Lan Qihua here in the mens' section, Cloud Recesses has only managed to impress on those weird views her grandmother forced down her throat.”

Senior Lan Xiaozhi cleared his throat pointedly, “Speaking of others behind their backs is prohibited, Disciples. As is criticizing others and sowing discord amongst your peers,” he scolded sternly, “You must be loyal and filial. I will expect you to copy these rules, Disciple Nie Gongzu, this evening. Only the once is required, but I hope you will reflect on this wrong doing.”

A-Li bowed, “Senior Lan Xiaozhi, please, Nie Gongzu was only answering a question for me. To understand why Maiden Nie Libo has made the choices she has, and if there is any means to help or convince her away from her current path,” he explained.

“You honesty is appreciated, but one must be cautious of knowledge gained of others and how it will effect your opinion of them and their doings. To you as well, Disciple Potter, a single copy of these rules is to be written. Reflect well on these teachings and why empathy and the search for understanding in matters not concerning you personally can lead one down a crooked path,” Senior Xiaozhi lectured before clapping his hands, “To your places. We will begin shortly.”

The argument of how that wasn't fair sat on A-Li's tongue, plainly visible. He did not agree with Senior Lan Xiaozhi, and judging by the slight curl of his lip, found some of his words downright insulting or more than just mildly objectionable. But still, he stepped back with an apologetic look in Disciple Nie Gongzu's direction, the other student shrugging carelessly and waving him off without a problem. Lan Xiaozhi was famously light on his punishments, believing that enlightenment and understanding were far more important than punishment, he would expect both of them to speak to him of their thoughts the next day and obtain their point of view. Even if they continued to disagree with him, they would not be punished again, his only goal was to make them think and consider their actions – if they found them to still be righteous then no amount of punishment was going to change that. Only drive a wedge between them and force someone onto a crooked path.

They continued with the lesson and sparring and drills, Lan Yuan could honestly say his heart was not in it, but he would not insult his classmates by not giving them the attention they deserved – to let his mind wonder in sparring was to invite injury. He must be focused.

After dinner, both A-Li and Gongzu headed off to the library to write their lines while Lan Yuan ignored Jingyi and Kong-Ming's teasing. Zizhen even tittered a little at his expense before making a few recommendations of his own on how to woo A-Li, recommendations that Lan Yuan could not imagine actually working for someone so practically minded as the apothecary. They already knew that he was not educated on matters of poetry, perhaps his country did not even hold it in as high a regard as they did! They had to stop and change the subject of their discussion when Yao Yuanxun and both Sun Zhongmou and Wentai showed up with Lan Xingba in tow. Xingba was highly competitive, if he heard anything about Lan Yuan finding interest in someone he would never shut up about it and, even though it was specifically forbidden by Sect rules, he would attempt to use it to usurp Lan Yuan's position as First Disciple. Ignoring the fact that if he was indeed dismissed from that lofty height, then it would be Jingyi replacing him instead.

Gongzu returned, quietly thoughtful, but alone, much to Lan Yuan's concern.

“He's got an interesting way of looking at things, that Disciple Lili,” the Nie boy commented, rubbing his chin as he sat down. “He's gone to get a change of clothing and visit the Cold Pool, see if that will help with his imbalance,” he explained at the looks of naked concern on both Lan Yuan and Jingyi's faces.

“The healers said he wasn't to use it until he put on more weight or he would freeze to death,” Jingyi yelped.

Gongzu snorted, “The benefits to his cultivation outweigh the risks, I doubt he'll die. Might need help warming up though, you can thank me later,” he added with a smirk as Lan Yuan and Jingyi jumped up to hopefully head him off before he got there. Zizhen had to smother high-pitched inappropriate laughter as they left the room at as brisk a pace as the rules would allow.

Lan Yuan didn't know what A-Li was thinking, surely he must realise going somewhere to _bathe_ alone was a huge risk with Disciple Nie Libo hunting him – though how on earth she had not yet been _caught_....

They made for Lan Yuan's room only to find it empty. Which meant he was already at the Cold Pool.

It was already dark, and the sound of the waterfall into the Cold Pool effectively drowned out any sounds of voices or distress as they strode purposefully along the cliff-face towards the opening. Jingyi almost marched straight down the stairs into the small pool only for Lan Yuan to grab him, suddenly distressed.

“What if he is already bathing? We cannot go in while he is undressed,” he hissed quietly, he didn't think he would be able to handle that. That would be going too far in regards to his feelings, he didn't – it wouldn't be _fair_ to A-Li if he saw him unclothed against his will, without permission.

“You want Nie to have him first?” Jingyi hissed back with venom. “If we're wrong then we're wrong, and we'll submit to the punishment. But A-Li is reasonable and understanding to his own fault and detriment, he won't be upset if we come out of concern for him, which we _are! You're nothing like her, A-Yuan,_ _ **nothing.**_ ”

He swallowed, feeling his friend's faith in him settle the churning dismay in his stomach as he nodded mutely, the two of them turning just in time to see a flare of Qi and a startled cry from the pool.

They bolted, running down the stairs spotting a figure in Lan white robes trying to fish a familiar pale figure out of the water even as he tried to slip free. Despite wearing the robes of a male cultivator, wearing a white headband of a non-blood relative, with hair pulled back into a dignified masculine top-knot, the water disturbed by A-Li's struggling made pale fabric cling to the feminine curves of her figure. Giving away her identity immediately.

“Let him go!” Jingyi roared, lunging at her.

Disciple Nie dropped A-Li's broken arm as if burnt, throwing herself away from the pool and Jingyi's grab, running away, looking longingly over her shoulder as Lan Yuan whisked his over-robe off to cover A-Li's body, picking him bodily out of the water. He ignored her completely, focusing on Hari in his arms instead, wrapping him in his over-robe quickly so as to hide his skin and warm him.

“You should not have come here alone,” he scolded, “Senior Lan Qihua said you must put on more weight before you can use the pools safely. You are almost _blue_ , A-Li,” he fussed in agony, trying to rub warmth into his arms. He looked around for his clothes and grimaced in pain to see that they were strewn and trampled across the wet stones, half-trailing into the pool itself. They must have kicked them over in their haste, or Disciple Nie had disturbed them, he didn't know.

A-Li wavered against him, shivering violently, “I think – the pool – did something to me?” he chattered, his teeth chattering faintly.

The Pool?

Lan Yuan frowned at the water, racking his brain. It was often a place where male cultivators came to improve their Qi-flow and heal from major and minor injuries. It was said that if the water itself had not been so clean, if the earth and stone not so holy or purified, the pool would be pink from all the blood shed into it from the men who came to seek healing and rest over the centuries. He knew that, despite how the cold made them ache, his father still visited the Cold Pool often to aid in his cultivation, in the aches and injuries that he obtained from night-hunting often months at a time. Lan Yuan was.... one of only two reasons that Hanguang-Jun returned to Cloud Recesses for these days. He feared that once he graduated from Disciple to Cultivator that.... his father would walk away and not return until Zewu-Jun married, and then he would truly _never_ come back.

The Pool had been bled in and cultivated in for generations. It had never done anything to anyone – so if something had happened then it was unique to A-Li and his circumstances.

Gently, he felt within the older boy's Qi-flow, pausing in surprise when he felt it respond eagerly to his touch, bright and healthy. _Balanced_.

He pulled a hand free and pressed it against A-Li's dantian.

His foundation was healed over by now, but it had been too fragile to begin cultivation in earnest, too much pressure would crack it once more and all his energy would slip away like water in a broken pot – forcing him to draw more and more in. Which was what had happened, he realised. A-Li had drawn in some of the lingering Yang energy from the pool, it laid over his dantian like mortar in a building, filling the cracks and shoring him up.

His body was now holding all of the Yin energy it had gathered without leaking it away, his Qi-flow was contained and smooth, _pure_.

“We should get you to Senior Lan Qihua,” he concluded in amazement. Just one dip in the Cold Pool and he'd absorbed enough Yang energy to complete healing that the Seniors believed would take months with acupuncture, medicine, and incense. He gave A-Li's arms a quick rub to try and work some warmth into his tiny shivering body before going to collect his sopping wet clothes. They were in no way fit to be worn. He wrung them out as best he could as he gathered them up, spotting Jingyi as he returned, grumpy and furious.

“She returned to the womens' area,” he complained angrily. Which explained why he had not caught her. They were forbidden from entering such a space under any but the gravest of circumstances. It was to be a safe-space for the women of their clan, and no man was permitted to invade save the healers and the Sect Leaders and Elders. And even then, it was still frowned upon.

Lan Yuan pursed his lips unhappily as Jingyi collected the wet clothing from him with a scowl and an impatient gesture at Hari who continued to shiver in his over-robe.

He quickly gathered the half-naked boy back up and guided them out and towards the Zitengshi, thankfully it was dark so there were few eyes to see them walking in the gloom, only Disciple Lan Zhuoying, the brother Disciple to Nie Libo passed them. His eyes widening as he spotted Hari soaking wet, blue and shivering in only a borrowed over-robe, and his escorts looking furious as he was taken down to the Zitengshi. Whatever conclusion he drew, they were not privy to it, he only bowed and continued on his way.

Senior Lan Qihua was _less_ closed mouth on the subject, and had Hari behind a privacy screen with fresh warm clothes, tea, and a twisted ear between one step into the Zitengshi and the next. His clothes were collected from Jingyi by another Disciple, and Lan Yuan sat patiently with him until the healer was finished with her examination.

“What manner of country is your home one?” they could hear her asked suspiciously. “The Cold Pool should have whipped the warmth from your bones without a Golden Core.”

“Temperate actually. It was very green and fertile. Our summers are warm, and our winters are cold. Scotland would see thick snow, Hogwarts often froze over. Um... I'm used to being cold so I didn't think it would be a problem if I only stayed in there for a little while. No more than five or ten minutes. But then Disciple Nie startled me and....”

“....And?”

There was a rustle of fabric, “Have you ever swallowed too much tea at once?” he asked rhetorically, “It felt like that but.... in my stomach? It went really bright and it felt like I was winded. I couldn't get enough air in. Sizhui pulled me out of the Pool then, but I still feel.....”

“Lay back. I'm going to open your robe and check your dantian,” Senior Lan Qihua instructed, they _heard_ her hand touch his skin, a faint slap of her palm on Hari's belly that made Lan Yuan's ears go a little pink as he looked down. “Well, you're putting weight on nicely. I'm going to have to mix up more body tempering liquid for you.”

“You could just give me the recipe.”

There was a slight pause and then she laughed, “Yes, yes, you are a skilled apothecarian. My apologies, I am not used to my patients having the slightest clue as to their own care. I will have it copied out for you. It will be up to you to learn how to read it,” she added with wicked amusement as Hari grunted in annoyance, and then discomfort, and then something a little more higher pitched and plaintive that _really_ made Lan Yuan blush as the old woman hummed. “You drew in too much Qi. Or – no, no you didn't. You have already begun to formulate your Core,” she spoke quickly alarmed and fascinated in equal measure.

Lan Yuan and Jingyi looked at each other in confusion. But. But Hari was only at the Qi Refining stage. His body had only just been purged of harmful Yuan and tainted Yin energy, leaving him to absorb natural Qi from the world around him and refine it with him. His dantian, his foundation had only just been completed this evening, Hari was no longer purely a Qi filter but now he was collecting it. He had not even begun to fill his internal reservoir with the energy needed to form a Core! Unless.... Unless he absorbed more than just a little bit from the Cold Pool....

Ah, but if he had, his energies wouldn't be in balance!

They were balanced and he had taken enough to repair his foundation....

“This amount of Qi is incredible,” Lan Qihua exclaimed. “Lan Wenze, Lan Yunchang, quickly, fetch the third stage tools! He is breaking through a Bottleneck and needs assistance before his body destroys itself!” There was a flurry of footsteps, clinking jars, and thuds. Lan Yuan swallowed, and then flinched when he felt Jingyi's hand latch onto his knee, fingertips digging into his flesh warningly. Hari's voice hitched in pain. “That's it lad, up you get, on your feet. You're not going to break through lying on your back like a courtesan.”

“Eat this, Disciple Potter Hali,” one of the healers commanded. There was a pause and then Hari started coughing. “Yes I know it is bitter, you must eat it though.”

“Bring him over here,” Lan Qihua commanded, “I'm going to show him how to formulate a core and condense it down. He's in pain because he isn't condensing it, just letting it swell inside him. Light the stimulant incense, not the Qi-Flow. We need him awake.”

Lan Yuan closed his eyes, reaching for serenity as much as he could, working his jaw whenever he heard Hari's voice hitch and go high with obvious pain, cursing what much have been very vividly in his mother tongue given how skilled he was at it in theirs. None of the healers called him on breaking the rule regarding vulgarity. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, he must have slipped into meditation because it was the only way he could have stomached listening to Hari being in pain and done nothing otherwise. Even _with_ Jingyi's fingers leaving deep bruises on his leg in an effort to remind him not to disturb the healers when they were doing their jobs.

Curfew came and went. One of the Junior Disciples leaving them tea before he left for his bed.

They stayed exactly where they were. The tea remained untouched and slowly went cold.

There was a clatter in front of them, and the two looked up, jarred out of meditation suddenly to see the Senior healer thump down in front of them without a care for proper sitting, grab the teapot and drink from it straight. It was so scandalous the two were shocked into the silence before they could even ask after their friend as she poured liquid straight from the open lid into her mouth.

“He broke through the bottleneck,” she announced wiping her mouth as she lowered the pot. She looked exhausted. “I have never seen anyone go through three breakthroughs in a single day. His Qi-channels are going to be inflamed and painful for a while.”

“What can we do to help?” Lan Yuan asked seriously. His own Qi-channels had only been inflamed once, and he would not wish that discomfort on anyone. A burning maddening itch beneath his skin that persisted for days. He had wanted to drown himself in the Cold Pool but not been allowed as any cultivation would only exacerbate his pain. He was forced to swim in the rivers if he desired any relief.

“Force him to eat as much as he can stomach for the next few days,” Lan Qihua stated, “Let him sleep as much as he needs. When he's up and about, make him meditate more. His Core formation was..... I could write entire journals of observation and theory on what I have seen tonight. Had he been anyone else, it would have killed him. The energy would have burned him from the inside out like fire.” She took another long drink of the cold tea and they didn't dare speak until she was done. “His body will be healing rapidly, and shedding impurities swiftly. I wouldn't let him wear any white for the foreseeable future. And I mean it when I say _make him_ _ **eat**_. He will be burning more energy than you can imagine in the next few days, if he eats as he has been, he will burn out and wither away.” She grimaced angrily then. “I hate to say it but.... Take him to Caiyi. He will _need_ meat.”

Jingyi bowed, “I'll arrange for a Jade Token.”

She arched an eyebrow, “He didn't already have one?” she demanded and the two Juniors winced. They knew that Young Master Mo had not been given one due to his.... circumstances, Jiang Wanyin's determination to kill him for a start, Hanguang-Jun's determination to protect him at the end. But they really had no answer for why Hari had not been given one.

“Where is.... A-Li now?” Lan Yuan ventured hesitantly. She gave him a dry look of amusement before finishing up the pot of tea and heaving herself to her feet.

“Bathing. He vomited up a lot of impurities during his breakthrough, and already started sweating out the rest,” she explained as she lead them past the small screen that separated the visitors sitting area from the rest of the Zitengshi. She gestured to them to wait and set another pot of tea to brew before bustling to the shelves and draws and beginning to pull things down and out, “It is likely he will undergo rapid growth in both body and cultivation over the next few days, hence the need to eat and sleep as much as possible. I have already sent Lan Yunchang to the seamstresses with the clothes you brought with you to make him new robes. These are painkillers, he will need them when his bones start aching.” She wriggled her fingers on a bookcase and drew two volumes out before turning to them and unloading the jars on Jingyi and shoving the books at Lan Yuan, “Basic recipes for our potions and elixers including the body tempering fluid and qi-pills. And this is for you. I suggest reading it in privacy,” she added with a tired smirk that made him frown and look down at the unassuming book she had just shoved into his chest.

“Am I going to be sweating this black stuff out all night?” A-Li asked roughly, surfacing from the bathroom in dark blue robes, his hair roughly braided over one shoulder. He looked terrible, his eyes and mouth were livid red and the rest of his skin looked waxy pale and slightly grey in places, especially under his eyes, forehead, and around his upperlip.

“And most of tomorrow too,” Lan Qihua confirmed. “You'll need to eat like your life depends on it boy, because it does. And drink plenty of water and tea. You'll be sweating it out in short order. I've given the boys where some pain medication for when your row spurts kick in, and they're going to arrange a visit down to Caiyi where you can stuff your face with as much braised beef as your heart desires.”

His stomach gave a very interested and plaintive whine at the thought, and Hari went pink.

It looked terrible and blotchy on his face given his current health, and Lan Yuan immediately wanted to bundle him up, and thankfully he was allowed to. They had gotten maybe four paces outside the Zitengshi before Lan Qihua swung out, “A-Yuan, I will speak with your teachers about tomorrow. I am leaving Disciple Potter in your hands, he is not to leave your rooms unless it is to the dining halls or the gardens. Remember to read those books, you'll have to teach the recipes to Potter.”

The three bowed to her and hurried away.

“I'm exhausted,” Jingyi moaned softly as they headed up to the clan dormitories. He glanced at Hari in worry, “You tell A-Zhui the moment you don't feel well, alright? You went through a lot tonight and you need to be _extra_ careful so you don't melt everything inside, okay?” he said.

Hari nodded from under Lan Yuan's arm, exhausted and looking greyer by the moment as they walked, he radiated heat under him like a small furnace. “I understand. I'm just feverish and achy right now, but she said that was normal. I'm not looking forward to the next two days,” he muttered unhappily.

“We'll arrange with the other Disciples to go down to Caiyi for dinner tomorrow. That way you can eat as much meat as you need to,” Jingyi declared, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “Hopefully by then the seamstresses will have finished your robes too. You're in for a few growth spurts now you've broken the third bottleneck. That's what the painkillers are for.”

“Goodie,” Hari muttered grumpily, “Itchy Qi-channels, growing pains, and a gross fever that leaves me sweating black gunk. Just what every guy wants on the tail-end of puberty.”

Jingyi had to smother his inappropriate cackling as they entered into the dormitories and split apart to go to their respective rooms.

Tomorrow was another day. One that promised to be a sticky gross and uncomfortable for Hari at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Harry had another bout of accidental magic, but since he'd been doing the beginning stages of cultivation which is drawing in outside Qi and refining/filtering it, he ended up absorbing a _lot_ of Qi from the cold pool. Enough to kick start his body to forming a Golden Core. So yeah. He's gunna have a 'kind of' magic soon. Not exactly the same as what he had before, but close enough that it doesn't really matter, transfiguration and conjuration are probably going to be outside the realms of his abilities. There's a lot of overlap between cultivation and magic but not THAT much.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Underage drinking

Mindful of Senior Healer Lan Qihua's instructions, Lan Yuan woke at his customary fifth bell, Potter Hari... _A-Li_ , tucked up against his chest, wrapped in multiple layers so that his black sweat would not stain his white bedding at his own insistence, and decided _not_ to get out of bed. He greedily, and selfishly, and _immorally_ enjoyed the opportunity afforded to him to slovenly lie in bed with the person he liked most in his arms.

Still, eventually his guilt at taking advantage drove him flinching and cringing from his bed and from _Disciple Potter'_ _s_ warmth.

He felt so bad he ended up copying out their Sect rules about promiscuity and impure thoughts and behaving morally to remind himself that his actions had been unacceptable. He then burned them so that Disciple Potter would not learn of his shame, and how his innocence had been taken advantage of, it would only hurt him.

He did not like not having much to do he found. His days were usually filled with lessons and structure that now he was without he found it difficult to focus..... He had best prepare Hari's medicine and – the books.

He set the jars with the medicine out ready for when they were needed, and then collected the two books given to him, one was a standard apothecary guide on how to make their most basic cultivation aids – body tempering liquid, qi-pills, blood-pills, fasting-pills, incense, and several other things. The other book – as soon as he opened it he slammed it shut, feeling his whole body flush red and hot in mortification and horror at the detailed illustration that greeted him for a split second.

He looked fearfully at Hari who had yet to even _stir_ from his sleep despite it being the seventh bell already.

He wet his lips, looking back down at the book in red faced embarrassment but also.... curiosity.

Hari would not be waking until the tenth bell in his experience, not when he was so tired but.....

He collected the book and hid behind the privacy screen, putting his back to the wall so that he could not be sneaked up on or seen at casual first glance, and cracked open the book on the first page. The ink illustration was.... not of the same kind that he had once confiscated from Sun Wentai when he first started learning at the Cloud Recesses, it was not for the purpose of erotic titillation. The faces were blank, and the poses were natural instead of exaggerated, as were the – genitals. He had seen the oversized breasts and phallus in the other book, the anatomically impossible arched spine, not to mention the seeming ability to fly and engage in any position regardless of support. It was also titled simply, no poetic language, no names, just a single title depicting it as 'Goupashi' – swimming dog style.

He had seen Hanguang-Jun's rabbits in this position before and felt his face burn as he turned the page.

As he settled in to read, he realised that this was a traditional cultivation sex manual, typically given to the bride or husband on their wedding day. However, this one was.... a little different.... it was a _cut-sleeve_ manual, detailing internal anatomy and processes, erogenous zones and pressure points, positions and sexual acts, there were even instructions on _D-Dual Cultivation_ where both practitioners were strong in Yang energy, both strong in Yin, and where one partner was strong in Yang and the other in Yin. There were even little bits of advice on how to pleasure a non-cultivator if you took him into your bed. How to keep clean and healthy, prevent disease and injury and infection.

Were – were all wedding manuals like this, he wondered in guilty embarrassed curiosity as he found himself memorising the detailed pressure points in the carefully depicted young man's spine. At the list of sexual acts and their descriptions and how to's at the back – some with diagrams and illustrations.

There was even a recipe for several sexual aids, stimulants, oils for both lubricant but also massage, he flipped to the last page and went _sunset_ , choking in disbelief and horror and so many other different feelings as he saw the _most definitely not originally part of the text illustration_ on the final page. It was blotchy a little, obviously having been drawn by a very different artist to the clinical illustrator in prior images. No, this was very – very..... That was _very_ clearly an illustration depicting a Lan clansman and a young man engaging in _activities_ together.

The headband that was wrapped around the young man's throat and into his mouth like a leash bore the clouds of their Clan very clearly painted in tiny deliberate brush-strokes.

Did people actually _use_ their headbands like that on their partners?

He – he knew that it was _traditional_ to tie your intended spouse's wrists with your headband but.... he flustered, embarrassed and fascinated and mortified and interested and – this was all too much. He closed the book firmly, feeling his cheeks burning so hot he didn't think they would ever cool. It – was likely to be just the fantastical imaginings of a visiting Disciple who fell for one of his clansmen once upon a time ago.

He couldn't imagine someone wrapping their headband around their spouse's throat like that.....

All at once, a very unwelcome but incredibly vivid image of A-Li swam up from the back of his mind, as he had been the morning before, wearing Lan Yuan's sleeping robe half open, his hair a free fall of thick light-drinking black silk spilling down his thin shoulders, a thin white ribbon around his throat, the tails sliding down his pale chest to puddle in his lap.

He inhaled sharply, horrified at his own imagination, and jumped to his feet to go and draw some cold water and wash his face.

He crammed the book into his Qiankun bag with burning ears.

* * *

Harry woke up too hot, sticky, and hungry. He felt and _smelt_ absolutely vile he concluded as he struggled out of the many layers he had wrapped around himself in order to prevent his body from oozing black and grey all over Sizhui's bedsheets or robe. His friend was sat at his desk with one of the books from last night, watching him with amusement and a large wooden cup of water waiting for him as he finally untangled himself.

“I timed that just right,” Sizhui chuckled, “The bath water should still be hot, and there is a bucket of cold beside if you need it,” he explained as Harry chugged the water down in appreciation.

“You are most definitely my favourite, A-Zhui,” Harry declared fervently, grinning in amusement when his host went red and shooed him away to the privacy screen with a wave of his hand.

The hot water was needed to scrape off the dried black ick and Harry went through two cloths scrubbing himself and washing his skin, he didn't dare climb into the tub until he was actually clean, the hot water a heavenly balm on his aching limbs as he rubbed at his shins and sides. He was going to have to make some more soap though, he realised unhappily as he scrubbed through his hair with the last of the lemon scented bar he had made. He absolutely _hated_ the soap that was made in Mo Village, it was more fat than soap, he didn't feel clean once he was finished with it, he felt _greasy_. He had gotten lucky once with a merchant who had a bunch of lemons that were too far gone to sell for what they should have cost this far out. Harry got them surprisingly cheap in exchange for giving the man his last bar of black pepper and kelp scented soap, strange ingredients he knew but when mixed together with the soaproot it smelt very good, he'd gotten the idea from Dudley's bodywash in the final summer he spent at Number 4.

Maybe he could talk to the kitchens and see what they had there he could dry to make more....

He rinsed himself off and used the cold water to close his pores and rinse his dirty cloths before drying himself and redressing in jeans and a t-shirt, he would wear Ron's old sweater when his hair was dry. He'd stolen a Weasley sweater from all of them, specifically so he would have a part of his family with him – Mrs Weasley, Hermione, and Fleur had all gotten together and made him the large blanket currently still in his room when he mentioned it. He could have worn robes, but feeling as rotten as he did, he just didn't want to.

He stepped out, drying his hair carefully, “I just used the last of my soap. Do you think the kitchens would mind if I took a few ingredients to make more?” he asked curiously as he sat down beside his friend as he studied a map on his left, and wrote travel plans on his right.

“I'm sure they wouldn't mind,” Sizhui agreed absent-mindedly as he wrote the name of villages on their way to Langya, where the night hunt would be taking place.

Harry hummed and shifted, sitting at his back and leaning against him, Sizhui stiffened for a moment and then relaxed, leaning back ever so slightly to jostle him before returning to his former posture. An acknowledgement and acceptance of Harry's presence. He grinned a little to himself as he continued drying his hair. It now took so much more time to wash and dry? But – it was a lot softer and nicer to look at now he had to admit. It made his head look small, but it also didn't stick up like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

It was only when Harry had finished drying his hair and braided it back, coiling it into a tight looping bun and then tying it in place with the familiar black cord did Sizhui set his notes aside and rinse his brush before hanging it. “Shall we go and eat? How are your limbs, do they hurt?” he asked, craning his head back.

Harry hummed, leaning back against him, his back was warm and it was actually quite lovely and comfortable. “A little, but nothing serious. I am hungry though.” Really hungry actually, unnaturally so.

“Then we shou- _what are you wearing?!_ ” Sizhui squeaked, eyes bugging out of his skull when he glanced back and saw him in jeans and a t-shirt, going crimson. He quickly swivelled around to look away when Harry blinked at him.

“Uh, jeans and a t-shirt? Is something wrong?” he asked, bewildered.

“Th-they look like _undergarments,_ they are only _one layer,_ A-Li,” he choked out.

“Oh. Sorry, is layering important then?” he asked as he got to his feet and dug one of his summer robes out to throw on over the top. Sizhui nodded, tentatively peeking over his shoulder before seeing him properly covered and breathing a quiet sigh of relief. Harry wobbled an embarrassed smile at him, “Sorry. I didn't know. Jeans and t-shirts are pretty standard fair back home.”

“It's alright. But you would have gotten into trouble going to the dining hall like that.”

The two left Sizhui's room and headed for the dining hall, only half a bell ahead of the actual meal itself, which was good because they arrived early enough to give the staff time to prepare the dishes that Senior Qihua had instructed them to for Harry's benefit, and him an opportunity to explore their pantry to find some fruit or other stuff to make soap from. He would have liked to use some of the spices but he couldn't remember which ones could _stain_ off the top of his head, and he didn't want to waste a bunch of ingredients on what would only end up as a prank product used once in a blue moon for shits and giggles. He ended up taking a bunch of peaches and two small pots of honey and almonds.

“That is an... interesting mixture?” Sizhui observed as Harry sat.

“I'm going to make two lots,” he admitted waving the small knife he had been given before getting to work. “I was thinking of making some for Senior Qihua and the rest of the Senior Disciples as a thank you for taking care of me despite the trouble I've caused.”

Sizhui went pink, “You don't need to thank us, Disciple Potter.”

“You can use A-Li, and I really do,” he stated firmly. “Saying the words is enough usually, but you've all taken such good care of me, and repeatedly at that, this is the absolute _least_ I can do for you. Some nice smelling soap, something you'll use and is easy to store and take with you on night-hunts so that even if you can't find an inn, at least you'll be clean,” he declared firmly. For a spur of the moment idea, he was really warming to it as he carefully peeled the peach skin and began to separate the flesh from the stone. He would mash the peach flesh once back with his cauldron, and he would set the skins to dry over a candle. The almonds would need grinding, washing, and straining repeatedly with water before that water was mixed with warm honey and added to the rest of the concoction.

Everyone came in and began to sit ready for lunch, Harry spotting Jingyi and the others and waving, their faces lighting up with relief when they saw him as they quickly took their seats, legs bouncing rapidly as they fought the urge to speak and question him. There were audible gasps and squeaks from the baby juniors as they followed their caretaker in and spotted him, Lan Fei grabbing hold of Lan Huang and pointing at Harry eagerly while tugging his friend's robe. Oh no, had little Huang been crying? His face was all red and blotchy and wet.

The food came out, and – kept – coming – out.

Harry dug in, eating as much as possible, but, it was _way way_ too much. He could _barely_ get through two bowls and they were trying to push a _third_ on him!

They pushed a bag of peaches and sunflower seeds at him as they left the dining hall and The Disciples descended on him.

“We heard from Jingyi! You had a breakthrough last night? Really?!” Ouyang Zizhen exclaimed excitedly, fluttering around him.

“I – am so sorry – I didn't think – I never thought she would corner a man while he was bathing,” Nie Gongzu rasped, he looked wretched and there was a bruise on his face with a curiously familiar imprint – one that looked an awful lot like the pommel of Jingyi's sword.

“Lan Jingyi said you were going to Caiyi to eat tonight!” Yao Yuanxun exclaimed, shoving him aside with a hand to the large bruise on his face, “You're taking us with you, right?! I'm tired of eating rabbit food!”

Harry leaned away from the vehemence even though he could whole heartedly agree (was it bad that he wouldn't mind ritually sacrificing a child for a chicken nugget? Was it _really?_ ), “Uh... we are?” he asked, peering over at Sizhui who sighed and gave Yao Yuanxun a dry look of mild amusement but also slight annoyance.

“If you're feeling up to it. Senior Lan Qihua recommended letting you eat as much as you could stomach. And.... if we go as a group it will be safer, less chance of you being left unattended,” he admitted with a self-chastising look down at his feet. That was his wrongdoing, he was the one charged with taking care of Harry, not Gongzu, it was his responsibility to protect Harry. And he had not done so.

“Actually, we've been talking about that,” Zizhen interjected as they came to a stop outside the classroom, “Disciple Nie Libo had her jade token confiscated, didn't she? Otherwise she would have fled Cloud Recesses already. Her only chance of saving face at this moment is to force Disciple Lili to marry her, or she'll be dragged back to the Unclean Realm to face Discipline – the Qinghe Nie look _really_ poorly on any kind of forcing of relations regardless of gender. She's in _big_ trouble. _Huge_ trouble. So.... we were thinking, all of us, that you should come with us on the night hunt to Langya.”

Sizhui's mouth opened in horror only to pause and close it with a frown.

“Think about it,” Jingyi hissed looking between them, “It makes perfect sense. Nie keeps sneaking between male and female areas, and she's changing her robes as she does it too. It looks like she's using face powders and rouge as well so she looks different at a casual glance. It's only a matter of time before she realises where A-Li is sleeping, and it isn't like he can share Sizhui's room forever.” Zizhen muttered something into his sleeve and grunted a little as Gongzu elbowed him. “The only place she _can't_ go, is outside Cloud Recesses. It's the safest option for him because who's gunna stand between them when _we're_ all out? The babies?” he demanded with a scoff.

“Tonight can be a trial run,” Yao Yuanxun suggested eagerly. “We go out, we eat, we drink, and we have a good time. If there would ever be a good time to make a move it would be when we're all cutting loose and not paying attention, she would definitely show up. But if she doesn't, then we know she can't get out of Cloud Recesses and it's a _perfect_ solution. Minus the fact we'll have to babysit him on the night hunt,” he added dismissively with a wave of his hand.

Harry tried not to take offence.

Jingyi did it for him.

“Hmph, I'd sooner take him on a night hunt than _you_ , Yao Yuanxun!” he scoffed.

* * *

Caiyi was quite pretty. It was much nicer than Mo village, larger and on the water-front, it had a large dock with a lot of houses built suspended above the water and a bustling town at the foot of the mountain a good hour walk away from Cloud Recesses. The people were loud and friendly and welcoming, calling out various greetings to the young masters, easily identifying their clans by their robes, though a number stumbled on Harry in obvious confusion before brushing the matter off.

They found themselves in what Harry would have tentatively termed a pub, he didn't know what they would be called here, but either way, the boys were rowdy and loud and hungry. They ordered alcohol and snacks and a whole lot of food from the bar who were apparently familiar enough with the Lan clan to also have food and drink specific to them as well. While the other boys lubricated themselves with large amounts of Emperor's Smile and other wines and beers, Harry and Sizhui watched them with amusement and mild horror with their pot of tea.

Jingyi took one cup and was _immediately_ hammered.

Harry had never seen anyone get so drunk so fast.

Kongming was precisely the same.

“It is a somewhat well kept secret in the Sect that the Lan Clan are all.... very weak to alcohol,” Sizhui explained in an undertone of pained amusement. “One cup is enough to be completely inebriated and the next day....” he winced as there was a crash and Jingyi cackled, “Absolutely no memory of what they have done.”

Harry moved the teapot to one side as the food dishes started coming, soup, greens, and soy for Sizhui and an awful lot of delicious looking meats, potatoes, and stews and all sorts for Harry and the other boys who exclaimed and immediately crowded around the table to get their own meals. Jingyi also took more alcohol while they were all distracted and slammed face first into the table before sitting upright with a bloody nose and a huge red mark on his forehead.

Okay. Harry dug a handkerchief out, “A-Yi, come here, you've got – you're getting blood down your face,” he said, gesturing him around, the drunk boy staggering his way there and almost falling on him as Harry quickly mopped him up, ignoring the laughter and jeering of the Yao and Sun Disciples calling him 'such a motherly Maiden as to make men jealous he was not their wife'.

Harry flicked his bloody cloth at them, “Ain't _none_ of you three drunk enough to get away with talking to me like that as if you weren't in control of yourselves. Pack it in before I dye your skin green!” he threatened with a snort, ignoring the drunk teenager next to him even as he toppled into him and then fussily began to push him further into Sizhui's space. “A-Yi, stop, I can't go any further down the bench without _sitting_ on Sizhui's lap!” he scolded with an impatient swat at the boy's shoulder.

He came out here to eat but it looked like he was going to have to be their babysitter.

“A-Zhui won't mind! You should!” Jingyi exclaimed and then _physically picked him up_ and shoved him into Sizhui.

“A-Yi!” - “Lan Jingyi!” the two yelped as Harry found himself almost squashed between the two when Jingyi lost balance and almost planted his face into his chest while attempting to shove him into his taller friend's lap.

“Jingyi, A-Li needs to eat, not sit in my lap,” Sizhui scolded him gently even as he carefully pushed his friend backwards and slid Harry back onto the bench as if he weighed no more than a stray cat.

“THAT'S RIGHT!” Jingyi shouted, “UNCLE! MORE FOOD PLEASE!!” he called to the barman who laughed and called a confirmation even as the rest of the boys around them also cheered boisterously.

Harry chuckled nervously, leaning over to Sizhui, “Do we have enough money for this?” he asked under his breath, “I brought some gold with me but – ”

Sizhui patted his back, “Hanguang-Jun leaves me enough money to treat the other Disciples and pay for lodgings if we have to go on night-hunts while he is away. We have more than enough for everything, I promise.”

There was another crash as the bench the three troublemakers, Yao and the Suns', now with Jingyi on top of them, went falling backwards and sent the four of them to the floor.

“Including replacement furniture?” Harry asked hopelessly.

“....Including that,” Sizhui agreed before nudging a bowl of braised pork belly in chilli oil at him. “Eat. I'll keep an eye on them,” he promised in amusement.

Harry nodded and dug into his food, taking his word for it as he greedily inhaled the much missed flavoured and textures, washing it down with soup broth and tea. It was fun to watch the other Disciples cut loose, they reminded him a lot of the Quidditch Team and the DA rolled into one, Yao Yuanxun was most definitely a troublemaker and the ring-leader of the tree stooges (consisting of both Sun Wentai, Sun Zhongmou, and himself), while Zhongmou proved to be a gossip of the _worst_ sort – it didn't seem like there was a thing happening in the Cloud Recesses that he wasn't already aware of? And while he was drunk he didn't have a problem with telling all of them either! Sun Wentai as curious about _everything_ but also incredibly timid, practically hiding behind his cousin a lot of the time even as he questioned him about the gossip he'd learned and why people would do this or that. He was a surprisingly innocent soul.

Nie Gongzu was _absolutely gone_ on his fiancee. The more alcohol that went into him, the more they learned about his beloved Yu Jinlian and how amazing and talented and strong she was – they also were told that if they didn't show up to his wedding he was going to hunt them down and unman them. Zizhen was the best at flirting, always with a pretty compliment for a passing Maiden that would have her blushing and giggling and on occasion pinching his cheek with a playful coo.

Somehow the ever competitive Lan Xingba got into a _drinking_ contest with Jingyi and had already passed out on his bench to the hilarity of those watching. Jingyi decided that after his victory he deserved some meat, stole one of Harry's dishes, ate, decided he hated it and shoved it back at him as if he hadn't stolen it in the first place – he then started stealing everyone _else's_ food to shove at Harry too – which somehow also resulted in Lan Kongming aiding him. Both of the two drunkenly insisting that Harry was much too thin and he needed to eat or he would be cold. He wasn't sure where Sizhui never getting cold came into the equation but both boys were pretty insistent that Sizhui never got cold and would.... somehow.... keep Harry warm?

They shamelessly stole Yao Yuanxun's spicy peanut noodles and shoved them at him while Yuanxun was drunkenly arguing with Sizhui about how he needed to toughen Sun Wentai up, telling him all the while how _amazing_ Sizhui was and how nice and how lucky anyone he liked would be.

Harry was beginning to get an idea of what they _might_ have been driving towards.

They weren't exactly being subtle.

He listened in amusement as he ate, letting them drunkenly gush at him about their friend. They were trying _so_ hard, it was quite cute. Had he been a bit younger he would have been utterly mortified at the idea they had figured him out but right now, he was too amused by the fact that he was pretty sure.... it was actually Sizhui they were outing here, not him. It certainly explained some of the comments he'd heard. A few of the unhappily measuring looks he received from Lan Qiren at that, the man hadn't said anything but he seemed very protective of his nephews and his grand-nephew which was not surprising when Harry recalled that it had only been fifteen years ago that there had been a large war between all the Sects that Hanguang-Jun and Zewu-Jun had fought in. It was likely where A-Zhui's parents had died as well.

By the time Sizhui had finished rounding up his friends and returned, Jingyi and Kongming had really gotten into the swing of it and the _look_ of mortified _horror_ on Sizhui's face when he returned nearly made him choke on his stolen noodles as he drove the two away with a bright red face.

He almost wanted to tease him as he patted him on the arm, a little fib about how they seemed to have a crush on him sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the urge. That would be mean. “They care about you a great deal,” he said instead, grinning in amusement at the heartfelt groan.

“They could stand to care a lot less, or at least not speak so much about it. We are not to flatter or exult in excess, and be frugal with our words,” he lamented tiredly as he reached for his drink.

Harry chuckled, “Ah yes, but I think there's a few rules about honouring good people, being loyal, and something about being amicable and – _unedited?_ ” he asked as Sizhui drank and then choked.

“This isn't tea.”

Oh dear.

* * *

One cup wasn't enough to get Sizhui drunk, but he was wholly unused to alcohol and he _did_ get a little tipsy.

Still, with Harry as the last sober man standing, the three stooges getting increasingly rowdy, and curfew creeping up, they figured it was best to head back to the Cloud Recesses or the gate guards weren't going to let them in. It was..... certainly an experience trying to herd a bunch of drunk Disciples up a mountain path in the dark, not one he wanted to repeat though, amusing as it was.

Zizhen offered to let him borrow some of his erotic books in a very loud whisper that Sizhui pretended not to hear as he physically _carried_ Nie Gongzu and Jingyi, one under each arm, up the mountain. It was incredibly distracting to have an actual active physical example of how ridiculously strong he was because Gongzu was built like a brick shit house, and Jingyi despite being thinner was still solid muscle and no light-weight himself. Harry was struggling with just drunken Zizhen as they went up the stairs, the boy staggering into him, almost shoving him off the path as he whispered about lending him a book, “You can't do _everything_ but there's stuff in there two guys can do, I mean, unless you have fangs..... do you have fangs?” he slurred curiously, and promptly shoved a hand into Harry's mouth, making him gag in disgust and pull his face away.

“Jesus, Zizhen! Don't shove your dirty fingers in someone's mouth, that's rude!” he bitched, spitting to one side. He could taste bar-floor and dirt now. Great.

Kongming suddenly appeared and snatched Zizhen from him, slinging him casually and easily over one shoulder, “Bad Ouyang Zizhen. No. We do not touch Disciple Lili,” he scolded drunkenly as he stumbled up the stairs, “Only Sizhui is allowed,” he added in a very bad whisper.

It was hard to tell in the dark, but Sizhui's neck looked pretty red as they continued to climb the mountain.

Harry shook his head in vague amusement as they continued to the gate, looked like while he _wasn't_ the last one to know, he wasn't the first one either. The gate guards only arched eyebrows in mild amusement and slight disapproval at all the drunken Disciples as they were carted through half a bell before curfew, they had seen it all by this point and it was hardly surprising for them, one kind soul even recommended making them drink water before they went to sleep to avoid the pain when they woke.

They managed to pour them all into their beds, leave some water for them, and then usher Jingyi, Xingba, and Kongming into their own beds before returning to Sizhui's room just as the ninth bell rang. Perfect timing.

“You wash first, I know you're tired,” Harry told him with a small push to the privacy screen.

“I – A-Li.... About what the others were saying....” he trailed off flushing and twisting the edges of his sleeves in embarrassment.

Ah, so they were going to talk about this now. Okay.

He turned to face him and stepped forward, “I'm listening,” he said mildly, which only made him blush harder and look down, quickly dropping his sleeves when he realised he was actually tearing the fabric.

He struggled, visibly, with what to say.

“I – you are a very dear friend to me, I care a great deal about you. Probably.... more than I should,” he admitted miserably, beginning to twist and worry at his ruined sleeve again. “I don't want to lose your friendship, or make you feel in any way uncomfortable – ”

Harry lifted a hand, silencing him, “To clarify, are you interested in me sexually or romantically?” he asked quietly, bluntly, making him go red and fluster.

“I – is – is there a difference? I – I don't know...”

Likely his first crush, okay.

Harry swallowed, “Do you want a relationship with me, or do you just want to touch and kiss? It is the difference between intending to bed someone or desiring to spend time with them,” he explained, having to amend some of his words before he said anything about marriage. The people here viewed it differently as to back home, here it was a fact of life, people got married for political reasons, to have a roof over their heads, because the man decided he wanted a wife and her father accepted whatever deal was made.

He looked down, “....I – I want whatever you're willing to give me. Be it friendship, nothing, or more.”

Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward, reaching out and catching his hands, gently untangling his fingers from his sleeves and holding them in the gloom, his hands were much larger than his, calloused from hours of sword practice and guqin playing, tiny cuts here and there from the strings and the edge of blades. They were hot to the touch, and his fingers were long between his own.

“I'm – not easy to get along with,” Harry admitted, lacing their fingers together, “The war damaged me in ways I don't have the words to explain, ways I haven't learned or discovered yet. My heart is bruised and cracked and shredded, but if you want it, it's yours.”

He could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he refused to look up, he hated this language, it was way too flowery and – it was only too easy to use poetic terms than plain ones as he preferred. But it was.... perhaps more accurate to how he felt than what he wanted to say. Sizhui had been honest with him, he deserved the same in return, even if Harry still wanted to hide himself away, those soft vulnerable parts of himself that he wanted to shield under a veneer of dismissiveness and distance. But if he did that, Sizhui wouldn't understand, and he would get upset. Hurt.

He gripped Harry's hands, “I – want that.”

He leaned down and kissed the palm of Sizhui's hand, “Then you have it.”

His breath caught, shuddering in his chest, fingertips flexing and grazing against Harry's cheek before he hesitantly slid his hands free to cup the former Gryffindor's face, leaning down closer, “Can I – May I kiss you?” he asked quietly, anxiously.

It was the first time someone had ever asked him for permission, and a little part of him melted inside for it.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say the Juniors had better communication skills than their elders LMAO
> 
> There is method to my madness, _Harry's going on the night-hunt too!_ I can't wait for him to meet Xue Yang >83


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Curses, tragedies, death.

Lan Yuan woke before the fifth bell wondering if it had all been a dream.

He could feel A-Li curled up against his chest, still sleeping. He dreamt that Kongming and Jingyi's mouths ran away from them and Hari realised his feelings and even returned them, he dreamt that they kissed. That he cradled Hari's face between his hands and kissed him until his lips were wet and swollen, until Hari pushed him to the privacy scream and told him to bathe and get read for bed, they could kiss more later. His hands had been shaking, his face ached with how hard he was smiling, his cheeks burning all the way up to his ears, his heart beating _so hard_.

His hands hovered at his head band.... and shook.... as he removed it and let his hair fall without restraint or adornment down his back.

He dressed and crawled into bed and waited, stomach twisting in anxiety and excitement even as he imagined – things, doing things, with Hari. Things like he'd seen in the book. Dreamt that listening to the sound of water splashing and soft sighs had been torture as Hari cleaned up himself and then dressed in his strange figure hugging nightclothes.

Dreamt that his hair had been down and soft just like every other night and that Lan Yuan had..... reached for him and Hari had laughed and hugged his head into his chest without hesitation, running cool fingertips through his hair, saying he looked very pretty with his hair down before leaning down and kissing him. He stared at the ceiling above them, feeling his heart squeeze and thud extra hard as he remembered dreaming about more kisses under the bedcovers, Hari stroking his hair and soothing him to sleep.

It had been a lovely dream.

Shameless. But lovely.

Hari shifted against him, and he looked down, smiling when he saw those lovely jade coloured eyes peer up at him, hazy and soft. Hari smiled and Lan Yuan was pretty sure his whole body locked up when soft lips pressed against his own – what – what what what _what???_ Was – was he still dreaming?!??

He inhaled sharply and opened his mouth in bewilderment only to flinch away with a squeak when something that was _considerably wetter and warmer than – had that been Hari's_ _ **tongue?**_

The jade eyed boy laughed quietly, his voice low as he shifted up against him, gently stroking his face, “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he said, his voice still a little sleep rough as he propped himself up on his other arm.

He blinked up at the Outlander, feeling his heart throbbing hard enough to feel in his ears, “Am – I dreaming?” he whispered, twitching a little as Hari leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“No.”

“Oh. But... I must be. This is – ” Hari made an enquiring noise, nuzzling into the side of his head, kissing his temple, the tip of his nose chill against his scalp. He swallowed, hand itching and fingertips tingling strangely as he held him by his thin ribcage. “ – too lovely to be anything but a dream...”

Hari's thumb skimmed his cheekbone as he chuckled into his hair, “Well, I'm very flattered, you're going to make me blush, and then where would we be?” he mused quietly, threading fingers into Lan Yuan's hair as he leaned up and kissed his forehead. He swallowed against his dry throat. Where would they be indeed, where could they _go_ from here? His heart was beating swift and hard in his chest, more than any sparring match had ever urged it as he leaned up and – pressed his lips against the pale column of Hari's throat, bared so trustingly in front of him.

Hari hummed in approval, leaning to one side and running gentle fingers through Lan Yuan's hair as he tentatively kissed his way up the Outlander's neck to his mouth, kissing that smiling mouth with only a little shy hesitation.

The fifth bell rang.

He half expected to open his eyes and find himself staring at his ceiling with Hari curled up on his chest, that it really had been a dream, instead, Hari sighed into his lips.

“Terrible timing,” he complained before kissing him again, harder but swift, and leaning away to smirk wickedly at him, “Shall we go and see how our beloved classmates are doing this morning after they made such merriment last night?” he asked with a mean little glint in his eye that made Lan Yuan's mouth go dry as he blushed.

“You shouldn't – take such amusement in another person's discomfort, A-Li,” he scolded and then promptly went red when he realised what he'd called the older boy, he had been careful not to actually _say_ that so far. He was kissed again, once, twice, a third time until his head was pressed back against his pillow, and when Hari moved away it was with an audible noise that their lips separated.

“It's an entirely self-inflicted agony that we spent much of last night trying to control. I think we're entitled to a little 'I told you so',” he breathed against Lan Yuan's lips, jade eyes glinting. He swallowed and nodded helplessly, unable to refuse when Hari looked at him like that. He was rewarded with another kiss that made his heart thud and his stomach twist before the older boy was climbing out of the – _their_ bed and stretching, his shoulders and wrists popping delicately as he lifted his arms, the bottom of his top layer lifting to reveal a thin sliver of pale white flesh at the small of his back. Lan Yuan swallowed, feeling as though he had been doused in cold water as he stared at that tiny glimpse of skin before shaking himself as Hari dropped his arms and headed off to relieve himself.

He climbed out of bed, making it absent mindedly, and headed to the door where the laundry basket was waiting for them with fresh clean clothes. Three changes of robes waited for him, along with a pile of neatly coloured black and red robes – the seamstresses had finished with Hari's new robes.

He took both in and took his qiankun pouch to pack the cleaned robes inside. He glanced to Hari's backpack thoughtfully. It was very fine and filled to the brim with all sorts of things. However it was bulky and would get in the way while travelling..... He would have to see if there was a spare qiankun pouch for Hari's use before they left on the hunt tonight. Actually, today would have to be spent getting a lot of things together for Hari to join them, as well as writing his deepest apologies to Senior Lan Qiren and Senior Xiaozhi. Senior Qihua was probably expecting it, she seemed to have a preternatural awareness of what was going on somehow – he also needed to thank her for the books, even if his face burned at the thought of doing so.

“Oh, are these the larger robes?” Hari asked, arms going around his waist even as he hooked his chin over Lan Yuan's shoulder. He tensed a little in surprise, but forced himself to relax and enjoy the contact, they would not be able to indulge in this in front of others. It would not be proper. Physical public displays of affection in this manner were prohibited in the Cloud Recesses, regardless of gender.

He nodded, “Yes. They have gathering ties in the shoulders and waist here hidden out of sight so that you can adjust the fit as needed,” Lan Yuan explained as he shifted aside the belt and held up a sleeve to show him. The robes were not quite of the same kind as Hari's former robes, it was clear the seamstresses had worked as swiftly as possible, one set was identical to the Disciple robes of the Gusu Lan Sect but in shades of red and black. Another set in a more familiar Yunmeng Jiang Sect style, while the final one was simply a very large black over-robe with red and yellow patterns stitched into the sleeves. He hadn't been aware that they had this colour of fabric, but he supposed that they must have gone down into Caiyi and obtained it specifically for Hari.

Hari gathered up the robes and disappeared behind the privacy screen so that they could both dress, and Lan Yuan had a brief heart attack when he was finished and _couldn't find his headband_. He had taken it off, he had _really_ taken it off in front of Hari. He had gone to bed with Hari without wearing his headband. They weren't even _married_ yet and he had – he had done something so indecent....

He found his headband beside his bed, coiled carefully beside his incense burner and quickly tied it on, swallowing nervously and glancing to the privacy screen where Hari was still trying to puzzle out his new robes.

He had.... gone without his headband already.... He had already done something so improper that surely....

“Do you need any help?” he asked, absurdly proud of himself when his voice didn't shake.

There was a faint rustle and then a sigh, “Please. I can't quite work out how this.... belt works,” he complained. Lan Yuan swallowed and hesitantly rounded the privacy screen, body tingling with anticipation and anxiety. He _wasn't_ disappointed to find Hari mostly dressed, but there was something a little thrilling about him not quite being _decent_ with the arrangement of his robes.

Still, despite that, he quickly showed Hari how to gather the loose fabric of his robes with the fastenings so they would be sized correctly before guiding him through the two belts and their fastenings.

Then came the hair.

And Lan Yuan remembered that he had forgotten a certain ribbon he had purchased last night.

“A-Li, wait, there is... I promised I would find you a replacement for your hair, wait one moment please,” he said before quickly tracking down his dirty robe from the night before and searching his sleeves, finding the length of dark cherry red silk. It was plain, unlike the other offerings, save for small careful designs on the tails, characters for good fortune in golden embroidery. The Uncle in charge of the staff had winked and asked when the wedding was when he bought it and Lan Yuan hadn't had the face to tell him it was just a gift and not an offer. He knew these colours did not mean the same to Hari as they did to him.

He smiled sweetly when Lan Yuan presented it to him, “You didn't have to, thank you very much A-Zhui,” he said, standing on his toes to kiss his cheek, and dying his face red once again.

“T-turn around, I'll tie it for you,” he said, blushing violently as he grabbed Hari's shoulders and forced him to face the other way, the older boy laughing as he stumbled on his own feet at the movement. Lan Yuan could feel himself blushing up to his ears even as he greedily sank his hands into Hari's hair, carefully and reverently drawing it up into a hightail and threading the dark red ribbon into it. It was some kind of sweet torture he concluded, one he most definitely would like to suffer again as he tied the knot and stepped back, watching as Hari's pale hands explored it, and tugged experimentally before turning and beaming at him.

He was so pretty. He wanted to kiss – he was _allowed_ to kiss him, he realised suddenly, like a bolt of lightning.

“M-may I...” he croaked, reaching out for Hari's face, he laughed and leaned into him.

“Yes.”

* * *

Out of all the Disciples that went drinking, that got absolutely pickled, only Jingyi was completely fine.

Nie Gongzu was the next best, but he confessed to being used to harder alcohols and had known to eat a lot and drink the water that Hari had kindly provided before going to sleep. The other idiots had not been so wise, and now they were suffering extensively for it.

Hari made himself an enemy of all save Gongzu as he hummed _loudly_ and _obnoxiously_ amongst them, bright and cheery at the unholy hour of the morning after he and Lan Yuan had quite purposefully entered into the guest dormitories to 'check on them'. Which involved a lot of loud knocking on the door and cheerfully barging in to loudly greet them while shoving cups of water and changes of clothes at them. Absolutely no one was allowed to sleep their hangover off.

The tables turned at breakfast though when more and more and _more_ food dishes were brought out to Hari who struggled to eat past his second bowl as usual. They all of them ate as much as they were able, even those with queasy hang-overs as they would be leaving for their night-hunt at the noon bell, which meant they needed to complete their preparations as soon as possible.

There would be six senior disciples going to Langya, himself, Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, Yao Yuanxun, and the two Sun cousins – Nie Gongzu had originally been identified to go, but with this mess regarding his cousin he bowed out. He wished to be present when his Sect Leader showed up to collect her in order to explain the situation in a way that she couldn't wriggle out of, their relationship with the Lanling Jin clan was good but if she was going to act like Jin Guangshan then it needed to be addressed properly.

They left the dining hall, Jingyi heading to the kitchens in order to fetch their rations for everyone, Ouyang Zizhen to the library in order to collect their order of talismen from the scribes, they had received their robes from the seamstresses that morning, which left Lan Yuan to handle all of Hari's preparations – of which he did not need much. Only a qiankun pouch, and a weapon – because he was not comfortable with the idea of taking him on a night-hunt with only his potions. He needed something just in case he couldn't reach or ran out of potions.

The Lan armoury was in a building down the path behind the library, curling around the mountain and into a quiet bamboo grove at the base of the mountain. It was not often intruded upon as they very rarely had anyone in need of new weapons, the training swords were kept in the classrooms, the sparring weapons in the training halls, the instruments in the music halls, and personal weapons with their wielders. Most of what lay within the armoury now were confiscated weapons seized during the SunShot campaign – Zewu-Jun had always advised him to avoid this place. His father had, in a fit of grief after the death of his Fated, gotten drunk, he almost broke Liebing and then, desperately looking for _something_ he couldn't articulate, came here and accidentally branded himself which did nothing for his health given his already extensive injuries. But, what his father didn't know, Lan Yuan could not make him sad over.

He still made sure to steer both himself and A-Li away from the torture instruments that still _hummed_ with vicious Qi.

Hari hummed frowning slightly as he examined the various daggers, “I'd probably be less dangerous to myself if it were something familiar.... these are about as long as a kitchen knife....” he mused as he picked one up with a red wrapped hilt and pulled its wooden sheath off to examine the gleaming silver blade, “But hidden weapons are frowned on, aren't they....”

Lan Yuan nodded in agreement, “It is considered dishonourable.”

He huffed on a small bitter laugh, “Must be nice living in a place where things like honour matter,” he commented absently, it looked like he had a lot more to say only to shake his head and set the dagger aside in order to pick something smaller out, a paired set of butterfly knives. Sizhui tried not to think too deeply on what those words could mean, knowing what he did of his past. Hari hummed appreciatively when he got a look at the blades and nodded to himself, “Silver washed, good,” he muttered quietly and handed it over to Lan Yuan to be signed out.

He completely ignored the swords, the sabres, and hesitated over the tiny selection of spears before shaking his head and pausing on the staves. They had a very small selection of staff weapons, very few of them had been used by cultivators to Lan Yuan's knowledge so he was surprised to see A-Li taking interest in them, though perhaps not? He seemed considerably adverse to bloodshed, flinching during practice spars and fussing over minor injuries with an unhappy frown on his sweet face.

Eventually he selected a staff that stood a little higher than he was tall, it was a beautiful staff, simple and well made, the grain of the wood rippled like watered-silk but despite the warm almost pale red and brown colour he couldn't identify the type of wood it was made from. It was completely plain and without adornment, cracks, chips, or damage. Even the ends were rounded off. A-Li tapped it on the floor, on his foot, hummed thoughtfully as he tested his grip on it in one hand and then both before nodding.

“This one,” he stated firmly, “It's the same type of wood my old cultivation tool was made of,” he admitted with a smile as he carefully twisted the staff between his fingers slowly so as not to hit anything around them.

They left the armoury with the three weapons, and returned to the dormitories where A-Li finished making his soaps and began to pack his belongings into his qiankun pouch, stowing the butterfly knives in his sleeves, washing and storing his alchemy tools, storing his ingredients. He then returned to his dormitory to get the rest of his books, just in case they were needed for whatever reason.

Harry took the longest to get ready and pretty soon they were almost ready to go.

He vanished for five minutes to deliver his gifts to the healers in the Zitengshi as thank you for caring for him, he also passed them out amongst the visiting Disciples as well before giving some to Lan Yuan and Jingyi as well. One each of the honey and almond, and the peach.

“Oh!” Lan Jingyi exclaimed as he rubbed it between his fingers, “There is no grease!” he exclaimed in excitement. He, much like A-Li, disliked the hygiene offerings in most of the villages they stopped in, so the gift was much appreciated, “It smells so good, I want to eat it!” his friend exclaimed as he greedily sniffed the pale orange square in its waxed paper coverings.

“Lick it first, see if you like it,” A-Li said with a grin that immediately made Lan Yuan pause in suspicion. That was the same grin he wore on his face that morning when he said they should go and wake their drunk classmates from last night – Lan Jingyi, bless him, did not catch it. And immediately ran the entirety of his tongue across the soap, _and wailed._

Hari cracked up, wheezing breathlessly with laughter as Jingyi tried to scrape his tongue off, making such a racket that two passing Seniors scolded them until they realised what happened and chuckled a little at Lan Jingyi's misfortune themselves. Pondering out aloud if they should start washing Disciples' mouths out with soap when they are vulgar or noisy if this were the response, they would surely be more apt to behave themselves if this were the punishment than writing lines. Jingyi whimpered and Hari wheezed into Lan Yuan's back, giggling as he kept well out of retaliation range.

Lan Jingyi was still pulling faces and gagging when they headed to the gates to meet the rest of their comrades. The guards didn't notice Hari in the middle of them, wearing Lan Yuan's spare white over-robe against the cold as they all mounted their swords, A-Li obviously with him as his blade was better suited to carrying more than one.

He didn't want to think about how Senior Lan Qiren would react when he received the letter they had written regarding taking A-Li with them until Maiden Nie was collected by her Sect.

It was a nice flight. It would take them a day and a half to reach Langya by sword flight, and Lan Yuan got to spend the entire time with his arms around A-Li who was still under instructions to eat as much and as often as possible, and made absolutely sure that he fed everyone around him as well. He got to spend the flight being hand fed slices of peach and the occasional few pinches of sunflower seeds with only Lan Jingyi to give him amused side-glances – not that he could say anything because being the closest to them A-Li was not shy about throwing the occasional peach to him when he thought it was time to eat.

He also got to hold A-Li when he could be encouraged to sleep. He needed rest to recover from forming his Golden Core in such a short amount of time, but he seemed to feel guilty about doing so while Lan Yuan was flying them to Langya. It was only making sure that he knew later on that once he had trained enough to do so, he would expect the favour returned, that let A-Li eventually lean into him and sleep for the equivalent of two or three bells. It wasn't as much as he needed but it didn't matter overly much, he would be sleeping comfortably in the inn while they had their Night-hunt. He knew A-Li would be irritated by that fact but until he had more training with that staff, Lan Yuan would not be taking him into a dangerous situation if he could help it.

Langya was a pretty coastal village with a bustling port and a lively fishing industry. They were greeted courteously by the village headman and by their only cultivator, an elderly woman who performed their funeral rites, birth rites, and acted as their healer. Her Golden Core was only at second stage and she had never developed it far enough to obtain immortality or youth beyond her years, so she could not do much more than provide them with what little information she had on the situation.

There had been a storm years ago, one that stole the life of their village's best fisherman. His daughter stood at the docks and prayed to the Blue Dragon for mercy, to bring her father back. When the storm calmed, her father returned, but he was not the same. A price had been paid for the saving of his life – their voices had been swapped. The daughter, who was famed for her beautiful singing, now spoke with the gruff sea-salt roughened voice of an old fisherman while her respected father now bore a voice akin to the bells of summer. A fair trade it would have been thought, their village was understanding, and many thought that the fisherman was lucky to have such a loving and filial daughter even if he was now too ashamed of his voice to speak. It would have been fine, had the daughter not fallen in love with a cultivator of Lanling Jin later that summer. He paid her court, lavished her with gifts and attention, praised her and teased her, trying to get her to speak and each time her heart broke just a little more when she could not for fear of frightening him away.

It went like this for months, until neither she nor her father could take it any longer and she came to the elderly healer to request a ceremonial dagger with which to cut her father's throat. Doing so would break the enchantment as long as she turned his body over to the sea before the rising sun. But in the end, she couldn't do it. Night after night she stood at her father's bed with the blade at his neck and couldn't bring herself to strike her beloved father. Her father who lay awake waiting for her to take her future into her own hands and seek a life better than the one he could give her.

And then, the cultivator had to leave. The SunShot campaign was to begin and he now had to go to the frontlines even though Lanling Jin had been uninvolved until then. The daughter packed her things, determined to join him, and her father went out fishing, intending to catch her favourite and send her off with a little something. Only a storm blew in. And all that could be found when the sun rose the next day were the shattered remnants of her father's fishing boat smashed upon the shore.

She wept for days, her gruff voice eventually tearing itself to ruin until she truly was as mute as her lover believed. Now her father was dead and gone, there was no hope to regain her voice, and her love was gone to the front lines.

When next a cultivator of the Jin Sect came, she managed to ask after her love, and learned that he had moved on, found a maiden amongst the camps who could speak, a daughter of good breeding and strong cultivation. They were to be married within the year. And what was left of the daughter's heart shattered and she returned to her home, never opening her door again no matter who came to check on her.

That night, her father's corpse dragged itself from the surf and came to her door.

She still had the ceremonial dagger but – instead of killing her father and breaking her curse. She picked his corpse up, and walked into the surf with him, and was never seen again.

Until three months ago.

The daughter was seen prowling the docks in the dead of night, walking through the sand and surf.

Any man caught after dark by her would be cursed to drown by the next moonrise. Even if he were laying in his own bed, water would gush from his lungs, flooding from his mouth and nose and he would drown and choke. Prayers, exorcisms, offerings, nothing seemed to have appeased her, and even the elderly healer's attempts to speak to her failed. None of them could ascertain what it was she needed or wanted.

All of the Juniors were in tears, Lan Yuan wasn't much better but he was trying to hold it together despite his great pity for the fisherman's daughter. To love her father so fiercely, to be cursed so cruelly, to fall in love and then lose that love and her father and her voice all at once, only for her beloved father to return for her to finish the task she couldn't bring herself to do before. To think of himself and his father in that position made his throat thick and his eyes burn and his chest ache and he could barely breathe for the sympathetic grief he felt on her behalf.

Only Hari was unmoved.

“I take it neither her or her father's bodies were ever recovered?” he asked calmly as he continued writing on his strange snow white paper book using one of those smooth writing sticks that never seemed to run out of ink or need more than a few moments to dry.

“No. We built a memorial to her and her father, they were well liked that everyone in the village did so,” she explained mournfully, “It hurts that she would curse us, but more than that, we are worried over what could have roused her anger this way. She was a lively girl without a cruel bone in her body, and her father was a gentle giant amongst men. I have never heard him raise his voice in anger, not even as a little boy.”

Hari nodded as he continued writing, “Three moons ago. Was there another storm?” he asked curiously.

“Yes. It pulled up the shallows and tore one of the piers from its foundations.” She sighed as she shook her head, “There is a shrine to the Blue Dragon not far from here, and we pray often but....” She rubbed her hands together in prayer with a soft oath.

“Any strangers pass through recently?” he continued asking while the other Juniors dried their faces and pulled themselves together.

“Plenty. A ferry from Zhoushan to Pingzhou comes through once a month. But cultivators are rare. A few young men from the Moling Su clan passed through. But they didn't even spend the night. They stepped off the ferry from Zhoushan and went straight to Lanling without waiting. There was that polite young man from Qinghe who spent the night and told some marvellous tales at the bar. But.... He did not spend the night unaccompanied if you understand my meaning, Young Master. He did not have time or opportunity to disturb anything,” the old woman explained with a delicate grimace of distaste at what kind of activities would distract a young man.

Hari continued writing.

“What state would you say the water-front is in right now? Underwater, I mean,” he added with a small frown.

“I couldn't begin to say. I'm sorry, Young Master,” she said while bowing miserably.

He waved her off and turned to the rest of the Juniors once she had respectfully withdrawn from the room, “Okay, for those of you too busy crying to pay attention,” he began shortly, not even looking up at them, “You've got a restless spirit cursing people to drown regardless of whether they're at sea or not. There's at least two confirmed bodies out in the bay, a shrine to the Blue Dragon that might potentially be damaged, a ripped up pier, and during each major event in this tragedy there has been a major storm. So. I'm not a cultivator, but from what _you've_ been telling me, our best shot is to find the corpse of both the daughter and the father and give them a proper burial, before fixing the shrine just as extra insurance against further storm-y nonsense. Thoughts?” he asked, finally looking up at them.

“That's a fair assessment,” Ouyang Zizhen sniffled, delicately dabbing at his eyes. “Aiyah, we're going to have to go swimming,” he complained.

Yao Yuanxun scowled, “We should check the beaches first. Won't do us any good to go deep diving if she's been dumped in the shallows.”

“The Evil Seeking Compass should help us find the body if she's in the shallows. But it'll be difficult underwater,” Lan Jingyi mused rubbing his chin.

“We'll have to row out and follow the compass until it goes off point,” Lan Yuan stated with a nod. That way all they would need to do was swim straight down and collect her corpse. The difficulty would be finding her father's. He might not have been causing any trouble, but if he were in the daughter's position, he would not rest until Hanguang-Jun received the burial he deserved. He might actually become more vicious if they gave him one but left his father untended purely because he hadn't raised a fuss.

“We'll have to do it during the daylight,” Sun Wentai mused, “So we can see what we're doing.”

“Will talismen burn underwater?” Lan Jingyi wondered, frowning at Lan Yuan who – didn't know.

“We're also going to have to find the shrine,” Yao Yuanxun reminded them with a sour huff, shooting Hari a glower, “You don't half make things difficult,” he complained.

Hari gave him a bitchy smirk, “You have such a tiny ass that you may as well do nothing at all if you're going to just half-ass things,” he retorted, making several mouths drop open in disbelief while Lan Jingyi burst into badly smothered giggles and Lan Yuan felt himself blush. “A job half done isn't complete, cover all your bases otherwise it'll come back to trip you up later – and in situations like this, that means people _will die_ if you cut corners,” he snapped his voice suddenly hard and ruthless as he pointed his strange writing device at Yao Yuanxun.

“Right, right, okay. You sound like my mother,” the teenager huffed bitterly, turning away.

“Smart lady, you should listen to her,” Hari retorted simply before looking at Lan Yuan with a grimace, “I'll help with searching the beach but – if you're going out on the boats I'll have to sit out. I can't swim. Not without using some pretty rare ingredients that I'd rather keep hold of in case I need to treat someone's lungs.” Gillyweed was one of those potion ingredients that could allow for oxygen to circulate the brain even if the lungs were jelly and unable to function. It would last long enough for a direct injection of certain potions to fix whatever lung problems they were suffering from.

The Juniors all nodded, they were all familiar with the fact that Hari knew more about medicine and the human body than all of them by this point. If he said he'd rather keep hold of something for use later, then they were happy to let him take the lead on that one – they hadn't intended on accepting his help anyway, and the fact that he couldn't swim only made him more of a hazard/hindrance than they first anticipated.

They headed to the beach with their compasses only for the points to all converge, eerily, to the centre of the harbour.

Harry did not like the look of that.

And knowing his luck.......

“Anyone wanna bet that's the Blue Dragon Shrine?” he asked without humour.

“No bet,” Lan Jingyi groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're OFF!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fan Art: Flag Flying HIgh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29854500) by [Kitcat1925](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitcat1925/pseuds/Kitcat1925)




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